Love Thy Neighbour
by thewriteday
Summary: Brenda, divorced and moving into her own condo, discovers that some of her new neighbours are not so new. Also features Andrea Hobbs/Sharon Raydor pairing. Angst will definitely be a factor.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – New Beginnings**

Brenda was sitting on her front lawn when she realized it wasn't hers anymore.

She looked on in a daze as Fritz and two moving-men carried belongings - some that would go to Fritz's apartment downtown and some to her new condo - out to the truck. Her mind was still inside the home she'd made with her husband.

Ex-husband. The papers were processed the week before. And here he was, helping her move herself, move her life, to the next new place.

Fritz was carrying an end table out to the truck when he realized Brenda had been sitting quietly on the lawn for a while now. His brow furrowed and he passed the table to one of the movers.

"Take this, will you? I just need a minute," he said and the other man nodded and carried on.

Fritz made his way over to her and plopped himself down. She barely stirred; she continued to stare into a space on the sidewalk. He put a hand on her shoulder and she inhaled suddenly as she turned to him.

"Hey, Fritzi. Sorry, I just needed a break," she said and added a soft smile.

"It's all right, you take all the time you need. How are you holding up anyway?"

"I'm okay. It's just strange, y'know. I never thought about _not_ livin' here. Not even when we were picking out my condo."

"I know. You couldn't stay here alone though, Brenda Leigh. It's too much house," he grinned. "And you're very small. You don't need all that room."

She grinned back. He took a deep breath.

"But also," he continued carefully, "there are some bad memories here, ones you'll probably want to avoid, especially now."

Brenda watched as the kitchen table, their kitchen table, was carried to the truck. She thought of pancake-mixing. She thought of Momma. She wiped at her eyes.

"Yeah." She let her mind wander in those walls for a moment. "Good ones too, though," she said as she smiled again at the man beside her. The man she'd been separated from for months. The man she'd somehow remained friends with, even after the fights and the broken dishes and all the messiness that brought them closer to the end. "I'm sorry, Fritzi. I'm really sorry it didn't work out."

He reached out and took her hand, he ran his thumb over the place where her wedding band used to be.

"I'm not." He said, finally, looking up into her eyes. "We made the decision together. The first thing we completely agreed on in months," They both laughed. "And it was the best decision. Neither of us were happy. We both kept holding on to something that just wasn't fitting the way we wanted it to."

She put her head on his shoulder.

"I know. You're right. We were right," she said with a sigh.

"But I'll always be there for you, Brenda. Whenever you need me. Okay?"

She nodded against him.

"Now get your butt off the lawn and let's get you all the way moved out." He stood up and reached out his hand to help her off the ground. And Brenda knew everything was going to be okay.

—***—

Later that week, Brenda still couldn't bring herself to really unpack her things. Whenever she needed something, she'd open up boxes and sift a bit until she found whatever it was she wanted. She'd cast a guilty look at the stacks and then decide there was probably something else deserving of her attention.

She had been better about cooking a few things for herself though, and that, she thought, was quite an accomplishment.

Although, she hadn't actually unpacked the pots and pans. She'd bought new ones instead. Baby steps.

Her condo was a nice size, probably a bit too much room for just her, but it would be better when company came to visit. The front door opened into the kitchen and dining room, which melded into the family room. Brenda loved the lack of doors in that part - just one big lovely space to spread out in.

Right now it was one big full-of-mess-and-boxes space, but she'd get to it eventually, right?

She sighed into her stir-fry. Her new red couch was comfortable but it made it even more obvious that the condo was undone.

Brenda finished her dinner hurriedly and realized there was only one option left when one's home was in shambles and in need of organization.

And that was to go somewhere else.

—***—

Brenda returned to her building a few hours later, tired of aimless driving, parking, and walking, and with a bag full of sugary treats to put in her desk drawer in the condo. _In _my_ condo,_ she thought. _In _my_ home._

It would take a while for it to feel that way.

She parked in the underground lot beneath the building and was just grabbing her bag of goodies when she noticed a very familiar car pulling into a space nearby.

Her breath caught. She froze and watched as a very familiar woman parked said car.

Brenda's hesitation was cut off by a sudden burst of confusion and anger. Why the hell was Sharon Raydor here? _Is she following me?_ Brenda thought, in a moment of absurd paranoia. Brenda got out of her car, blindly trying to lock it with the button on her keychain, realizing too late that she'd pressed the one that raised the alarm instead.

The garage filled with her car's wailing. She scrambled to make it stop, dropping her keys in the process. In her distress she hadn't noticed that Sharon had seen her former colleague and was now closing the distance between them.

Brenda had just silenced the car when Sharon spoke up, scaring the small Southern woman a mile out of her skin.

"Brenda?" Sharon noticed the woman jump. "Sorry - are you okay?"

"What are you doing here?" Brenda blurted out. She was catching her breath from being so startled and couldn't actually look at the Captain when she said it. Sharon shook her head for a moment, thrown off by the sudden leap in conversation.

"Well I live here." Sharon stated. Brenda looked at her then, in something like shock or horror. The expression was so absurd that Sharon laughed - a big guffaw that she quickly covered up with her hand. Brenda realized how she must have looked and closed her gaping mouth.

"Sorry." Brenda's turn to apologize. "I'm just surprised is all."

"Why are _you_ here?" Sharon returned.

"I… also live here. Now. Just moved in this week, actually."

"Oh! Oh. Huh," was all Sharon could manage as she processed the new information. "Which floor?"

"16th."

"So you still have a pretty good view then. I'm on 23."

Of course, Brenda thought. That woman always had to be above her. Even literally. She smiled and nodded politely at the brunette. They both stood in an uncomfortable silence for a moment and then both started speaking at once.

"Well I'd better-"  
"I should probably-"

They both laughed and made their way towards the elevator.

As they waited for it to come, Brenda finally thought of something to ask.

"Is Rusty still living with you?"

"He sure is," Sharon answered with a proud smile. "He's going to school and doing pretty well actually. He's not cutting class, he's making friends." They stepped into the elevator and Sharon hit both floors for them. "I think he's going to be okay."

"And what about after the trial? Do you think he'll stay with you?"

"I don't know. We haven't really had that conversation yet. I think he thinks he'll leave as soon as it's done."

"D'you want him to stay?" Brenda realized that it might be an uncomfortable question. It seemed too intimate, too far for her to step into the life of a woman she barely knew. But she kept her mouth shut. She was curious to see if she'd get an honest answer.

Sharon looked her in the eyes for a moment. She smiled. A genuine one, not one of those Raydor smirks.

"Yes, I think I do. He's a really good kid and I'd like to keep helping him if I can."

The elevator dinged as it hit the 16th floor and Sharon held out her arm to keep the door open as Brenda stepped into the hallway. The blonde felt her heart drop a little. She'd been enjoying the conversation and found she didn't really want to go back and sit alone in her apartment.

"I guess I'll see you around, Sharon," she said anyway. Because she didn't have a reason not to. Sharon nodded.

"You should come visit us sometime. Rusty would probably like to see another familiar face. I think you made quite an impression on him."

"I'd like that." They both looked at each other in silence until the door started to protest being open so long.

"Night, Brenda." Sharon let the elevator doors close.

—***—

Sharon took another sip of wine as she sat in bed. She was holding a book open in her hand, but she wasn't really reading it. Instead she was staring at the wall, absorbing the sounds of the TV on in the other room, thinking that she'd tell Rusty to go to bed soon or else he'd never get up in the morning.

She thought that would probably end up with him begging to watch just one more show and she'd cave and sit down and watch it with him, enjoying his company.

She smiled. She had fallen back into her motherly routine so quickly, so seamlessly, it was like she'd never lived alone at all.

She thought of Brenda, seven floors down and all by herself in the spacious condo. Of course Sharon had noticed Agent Howard's wedding ring had disappeared months ago, but she'd been too hesitant to ask. It wasn't her place.

She imagined Brenda sitting, eating whatever nonsense she'd brought home in that plastic bag she was carrying, all alone. And it made her sad.

She closed her book and set her wine glass down on the night stand. She massaged her sore neck for a second and closed her eyes. She pictured the blonde in bed, alone.

_I'll have to run into her again_, Sharon thought, as she left her room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – I'll have to run into her again.**

Sharon ran up and down her building's stairs on Sundays. Every week. She was always careful to do it at a time when she would hardly run into anyone – early in the morning or late at night – when most people were too tired to use the stairs.

Of course, there was that one time she nearly ran right into a young couple enthusiastically going about their business between the 7th and 8th floors. She had turned back and run so fast she'd pulled a tendon.

After that, she'd been sure to use the stairwell in the middle of the building. Not too close to the street out front and not too private like the one in the back of the building (where she'd had that little run-in).

This time, Dexys Midnight Runners were singing to Sharon over her iPod as she took her late-night run. She was on her second ascent, waiting for the familiar exhaustion to settle into her muscles. She was not only dodging sleep, which as far as she was concerned was dodging her, but trying to show Rusty she trusted him enough to leave him on his own for a while.

At least for short spurts of time. Baby steps.

Brenda did laundry on Sundays. Well, technically this was the first time in the new building. But Brenda had decided she would keep up the habit. Surely she could keep up at least one pattern to lend some stability to her new life.

Problem was, she'd been putting it off all day. Now it was almost midnight and she was carrying her laundry basket down the stairs. The closest laundry room was on the 20th floor, so it seemed silly to use the elevator.

She had also piled 2 loads of laundry into her too-small basket, making it too high to see over. Instead, Brenda peered around the side of the massive pile of clothes, taking very slow, very careful steps.

Sharon was usually quite careful to regard her surroundings, especially whilst running with headphones in. But at that particular moment, "Come on Eileen" began to play and she couldn't resist adding that little extra volume.

It also helped to drown out her heavy breathing as she hit floor 16.

Brenda could hear the steps coming from below her in the stairwell. She paused for a second, called out to see if the person could hear her. Nothing. It was just a couple more floors, though. She'd probably miss the person entirely.

Which was about when Sharon rounded the corner and crashed right into Brenda and her overflowing basket.

Brenda's clothes went flying and Sharon's iPod fell from her hand, tugging the headphones from her ears, and as they both collapsed on the landing.

Sharon groaned in pain, grabbing the right elbow she'd fallen on top of.

"Oh god… Sharon?! Are you okay?" Brenda's impact had been mostly cushioned by clothes so she crawled over to the brunette's side.

"Yeah, yeah, just a bit sore," Sharon flexed her arm back and forth to test the joint. "I didn't land on it too hard, but it's been acting up a bit lately. Feel's okay," she finally judged.

Brenda barely heard her, in large part because she'd finally had a good look at the Captain.

Sharon's skin was flush with colour and slicked in sweat. Her running outfit – a sports bra underneath a tight grey tank with tighter jersey capris – left little to the imagination. Certainly, it left little to Brenda's imagination as her eyes followed a bead of sweat falling down Sharon's chest and between her breasts, disappearing beneath the bra.

Luckily, Brenda realized she was staring before her subject caught on. As Sharon turned her attention to the blonde, Brenda's eyes snapped up – a little _too _fast, Sharon thought – and Sharon smiled.

"Fancy meeting you here," the older woman said breathily, still winded from the exercise and collision. The effect was a husky, seductive tone she hadn't intended.

Brenda's throat closed up for a second at the sound. She quickly cleared it.

"I'm so sorry, I should have been more careful. I heard you coming and everything but I didn't realize how close you were," Brenda started to pick up her clothes. Sharon followed suit and helped collect the scattered things.

"No, it's my fault. Should have been paying attention. Had my music up too loud."

"Captain Raydor admitting she did something wrong? Now ain't that suspicious behaviour." Brenda realized she's actually said it instead of just thinking it.

It was one of those reflex reactions left over from working together. She hadn't meant for it to be said though, or for her tone to sound quite so bitter.

Sharon caught a glimpse of Brenda's face, which looked more embarrassed than challenging.

"I know, right? I must be slipping." They both relaxed a little.

When they reconvened with Brenda's amassed belongings, Sharon insisted on folding everything. So they sat in the stairwell and did just that.

They were nearing the end of the pile when Brenda was suddenly distracted by Sharon's hands. The brunette had a few pieces of lacy underwear in the pile she'd picked up and it was if she'd saved them up all at once to fold slowly, meticulously, as she eyed them closely.

Brenda froze, hanging on every moment.

"These are _lovely_," Sharon said. She had since caught her breath, but a low sultry tone remained in her voice. They looked at each other and Brenda let out a shaky breath. She could feel goose bumps rise on her skin.

_Get a hold of yourself, woman!_ She looked down and started folding again.

"Well I don't get to use 'em for much these days," she meant for it to sound casual but thought it could be interpreted as flirting too. _Am I flirting?_

"I know what you mean," Sharon sighed. "Looking after Rusty hasn't really left me much time for myself. Or anyone else."

When they'd finished, Brenda noticed that yes, folding immediately _did_ have its benefits. The primary one being that she could actually see _over_ the clothes instead of just around them.

Sharon walked her to her door.

"You didn't have to ditch your work-out to walk me a couple floors," Brenda said.

"I was pretty much done anyway. Besides, I don't trust you not to have another near-fatal collision," Sharon smirked. "Now where are your keys?"

"Uhhh, back pocket. Why?"

Before Brenda could wonder, Sharon had reached firmly but quickly into that very pocket of Brenda's jeans, fishing out the keys and opening the door. Brenda's entire body rushed with blood.

Sharon opened the door and Brenda nearly ran through it, ready to close the woman out, to slam the door and shut out whatever was causing all of these insane reactions in her. Because they were insane, weren't they? _She'd never… I'm not…_

But there was no denying when Brenda turned back to face the brunette there was an mischievous smirk and an arched eyebrow that left a delicious chill in her Southern spine.

Brenda wedged herself in the doorway to block the view of her condo. It was probably too dark to see, but she'd rather Sharon _didn't_ scrutinize the disarray of the room behind her.

Sharon handed the key back to its owner, though she'd first thought of leaning in close and putting it right back where she'd found it.

"What are you doing Tuesday night?"

"Nothin'. Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me and Rusty. He'd really like to see you."

_I would too_, Sharon thought. But she hoped that was obvious.

"Sure, I'd love to." _Love?_ "What time?"

"Better make it 7pm. Just in case work runs late."

"I know how it is. Give me a call if you can't make it home in time."

"Will do. Goodnight, Brenda Leigh."

This time it was Brenda who let the door close. But not before watching the Captain walk all the way back to the stairwell.

She was already looking forward to Tuesday night.

—***—

Come Tuesday night, Brenda was full of nerves.

_Maybe I'll just call her and tell her I'm sick_, she thought glumly as her eyes dragged over her wardrobe. She'd tried on 5 outfits already and nothing seemed to hit the right mark.

Everything was too casual or not casual enough, too frumpy, too frilly, too serious, too sexy. Brenda held out a short, tight, red dress she hadn't worn once yet. _Now that would make an impression._

Brenda shook her head, as if she could dislodge whatever had brought the thought to the surface. _Where did that come from?_

She settled on a dressier pair of dark-wash jeans and a forest green sweater with a low V. Not too low. But enough. She was putting her hair up in a neat ponytail when her phone started ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hey Brenda, it's Sharon." Brenda's heart dropped. _She must be calling to cancel_.

"Oh. Did you catch a case?" She suddenly felt how Fritz must have on those many occasions she'd call home (or not call at all) and fail to show up for their plans. Sharon picked up on the sad tone.

"No! No, not today. I was actually wondering if you'd like to come over early. Rusty keeps notifying me of his impending starvation and I'm just wrapping up dinner prep now, so you're welcome to come over whenever."

"Sure! I'll be right up!" She sounded over-enthusiastic, but she didn't really care. Tonight, she wouldn't have to eat alone.

—***—

Sharon was smiling as she flitted around the kitchen. She hummed to Ella Fitzgerald's honeyed voice lifting out of the stereo. The potatoes were mashed, the broccoli steamed, and the pork roast was nearly perfect. It was a simple meal, but she hadn't wanted to take on too much lest she intimidate her guest.

Sharon wasn't really sure what she was doing with Brenda. She knew she was attracted to the lovely former-chief, very much so. But she had never made that attraction known. And she'd had just about every reason not to up until now.

Still, with a couple of the main barriers gone (they were no longer working together and Brenda was no longer married), she was still on tenuous ground.

For one thing, Brenda was now living in the same building, which was almost as problematic as being co-workers. Sharon didn't want to jeopardize her very cozy, very beautiful condo over some kind of fling or nasty break-up. And she'd done the whole living-near-an-ex before. It was a constant discomfort and potentially very volatile.

At the same time, Sharon chastised herself for thinking that far ahead. She didn't even think the woman had more than an inclination towards her. And there was a very big difference between an inclination or crush and dating someone of the same sex.

Dating another woman at first required acceptance of self, coming out to loved ones, being comfortable in public – essentially a major shift in one's world order on every level. And Sharon was pretty positive Brenda wasn't interested in any of that. She'd already experienced the loss of her mother, her job, her husband, her pride, and, very nearly, her life in the last year. Could Sharon think she'd be ready to add another upheaval to that list?

Then Sharon thought about the way Brenda had looked at her – in the stairwell, at her door, even when they used to work together – and how adorable the blonde had looked covered in bits of clothes, hair a mess, face creased in concern.

She remembered the way Brenda's body had reacted when Sharon had reached into her back pocket. Sharon itched at the thought of touching her again, of reaching inside the jeans, instead of just into a pocket.

A knock at the door disturbed her from her daydreams. Not tonight, she thought. Tonight is for Rusty.

"Rusty, could you get that?"

Normally he'd have put up more of a fuss, but because he knew it was Brenda, he bounded towards the door at full speed.

"Brenda!" He pulled her into a hug she wasn't expecting. Sharon stifled a laugh as she caught the younger woman's shocked expression. Brenda hugged back firmly.

"It's nice to see you, Rusty. I hear you're doin' really well!" She said as they separated.

He glanced back at Sharon.

"Yeah, well I guess I've had a little help," he admitted.

"Why don't you two sit at the table, everything's nearly ready. Brenda, would you like some wine?" Sharon asked.

"I'd love some!" Rusty said cheerily as he took his seat.

"Ha ha. You'll notice I asked _Brenda_," Sharon said as she threw him a glare over her glasses.

"I'll have some of whatever you're having," Brenda said. "Are you sure I can't help with anything?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I've heard stories about you and kitchens and I'd rather not have to call the fire department this evening."

"That was one time!" Brenda cried. "Okay maybe two. Or three."

"You've tried to cook more than once?" Sharon mocked.

"Don't take it too personally, Brenda," Rusty started, then dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Sharon's kind of a control freak."

"I heard that," Sharon called out as she pulled the roast from the oven.

"I meant you to!" Rusty replied as he popped back up and started serving wine.

Brenda smiled at Rusty but couldn't help it when her gaze magnetized to Sharon's ass as she bent over. The fabric of her skirt stretched against it and Brenda thought she could just see the outlines of a thong.

She snapped her attention back to the table where she could fixate firmly and safely on her hands.

Rusty had poured two glasses of merlot and was about to pour a third when Sharon reached out and stopped the bottle. He gave her a rather silly pout and she made a small "this much" sign with her fingers before turning around to cut the roast.

He grinned and poured almost exactly the amount she'd shown.

It was strangely comforting for Brenda, who was slowly getting used to this side of Captain Raydor: the comforting, warm, endearing side she hadn't thought existed.

She thought back to when they'd first met. There had been only ice in those green eyes, only challenges in her tone; every step she'd taken had made Brenda feel smaller, so small she'd reverted back to the behaviour of a defensive child.

Even when Sharon was protecting and advising her, it was hard to give up the picture of the woman as cold and impenetrable. Brenda had to keep correcting herself at the time – _she's working with you, not against you. Say thank you. And mean it._

It warmed her to see how close Sharon and Rusty had become. Brenda still felt guilty about leaving Sharon in that situation, having to deal not only with a disgruntled teenage boy who'd wanted nothing to do with anyone, but also with a team of men that specifically wanted nothing to do with her.

She smiled. She really was different than that first impression – they both were. If she'd only known before that Darth Raydor could be so open, things might have been different between them. Things might have been friendlier.

"I hate to disturb what seems like some deep introspection, but dinner is ready, Miss Johnson." Brenda hadn't noticed Sharon get so close and she jumped when the woman spoke mere inches from her. At the same time, she enjoyed the way that low voice curled into her ear, the way she said her last name, like some sultry schoolteacher.

"How are you so sneaky?" Brenda said. Rusty was giggling behind his wine glass.

"How did you work for the CIA and still manage to be so easily snuck-up on?" Sharon teased.

The meal was simple, but delicious. Sharon kept catching herself watching Brenda eat, relishing in the blonde's thorough enjoyment of each bite.

"Everything is… lovely, Sharon," Brenda purred at one point, catching Sharon's eyes. Both recognized the word as the one that had described Brenda's lingerie only a few nights before.

Sharon took a sip of wine to wet her suddenly dry mouth. The spectacle did not go unnoticed by Rusty, who was beginning to feel like a third wheel.

When they'd finished dinner and dessert (a chocolate truffle cake that Brenda gave rave reviews), Rusty took care of the dishes and after a few minutes of chatting, excused himself to his room. Sharon tried not to notice that he practically ran from the kitchen, putting as much distance between himself and whatever tension was buzzing between the two women.

She returned her attention back to the woman sitting on the opposite end of the couch. They were each holding wine glasses; each feeling like the other was going to pounce.

"You're really good with him," Brenda said, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

"Thanks. So are you, actually. But you seem to do it almost by accident," Sharon said as she sipped her wine. "Why didn't you ever have any kids of your own?"

Brenda winced. Having children was one of those eternal arguments that came up hourly in the last months of her marriage and the mere mention of the subject still stung a bit.

"Work, mostly, I guess." She ran her fingers though her hair. "I didn't ever want to slow down that long. Plus, I never had much of a motherly instinct. I'm better at bein' a friend than a mom." Brenda blinked and felt her eyes sting slightly. She couldn't help it – the 'mom' talk just made her think about her own and how the question of grandkids was never far from the topic of discussion. Sharon picked up on the discomfort right away.

"Oh, Brenda. I'm sorry, I didn't think–"

"It's okay." She paused. "It's been a while now, but it's strange. Daddy's livin' with my brother now and," she wiped at her eyes. "He's doing okay. But he's just real sad all the time. It's hard seein' him like that. Even when he was sick he was still fiery, ya know?

"And now. There's just no fire left." Her drawl had thickened somewhat.

How long had she been keeping that in? One simple question from this woman and she was in pieces, letting out a pile of feelings she hadn't wanted to even process. She blamed the wine for loosening her tongue.

"I'm sorry for unloadin' on you. I should probably get going," Brenda spoke quickly as she set down her glass. She was overcome by the compulsion to run, to disappear downstairs and curl up in her bed. Possibly with some more wine.

But before she could stand, Sharon had put her glass down and reached for Brenda's hand.

"Brenda Leigh. Don't apologize," Sharon said. And because she believed more in anecdotes than advice, she continued, "When my husband and I separated, I had no one to really talk to. Of course I had my kids and my parents, a few close friends. But it wasn't the same. I lost my sounding board. Everyone else had their own things to deal with and I always felt so," she searched for the right word, "_guilty_ sharing how I felt with them. Which meant I never talked about it. I just kept it all pent up. But I couldn't do it for long. It ate away at me. It turned me into an irritable, touchy mess. And I gather you and Fritz are still close, but it still won't be the same.

"So I guess all of this is to say," She ran her thumb over Brenda's hand, "I'm here. And if you ever want to talk to someone, about anything, I'll be here."

Brenda shook her head and smiled.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Sharon asked, afraid she'd said something wrong.

"Get in my head. It's like you just let yourself in an open window somewhere. Am I that easy to read?"

"There was a time when I thought I'd never understand you. I'm still not sure I do. But I _have_ been in your position, or close to, so I at least know where you're coming from."

Sharon hesitated before moving closer.

"And since I've been there, I want you to know you don't ever have to feel alone," she said lowly, quietly.

Brenda watched the older woman's lips move, the soft lovely curves, set in a soft but serious expression. There was a part of her that wanted to kiss her. But there was a much larger, much louder part of her that was panicking. _I'm not ready! I can't do this!_

At the same time, they were at a point-of-no-return of sorts and she knew she had to do something. So she let go of Sharon's hand and threw her arms around the woman's neck.

Sharon was caught off at first, but quickly acclimatized to the new interaction and wrapped the blonde into her arms tightly, stroking her back.

"Thank you so much, Sharon," Brenda said into the woman's hair. As she pulled away she wiped at a few fresh tears and added, "I guess we really are friends now," and they both laughed.

Soon after, they decided it was time to part ways, time to at least feign sleep before work the next morning.

After a semi-awkward hug at the door, Brenda returned to her own place, her own bed. But she didn't feel alone anymore.

She had a friend. She had Sharon Raydor.


	3. Chapter 3

This chapter contains Mature material near the end. Probably not in a way most people had been anticipating. Also this chapter gave me an excuse to use the word "shtupping," so there's that.

There are quite a few references to the final episode of The Closer, so if you're due for a re-watch, go for it.

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Closed doors**

It felt almost inevitable that a drug-addicted pawn shop clerk would ruin Sharon's evening. Inevitable for the weary head of Major Crimes, anyway.

He was clean when they picked him up, but she saw him absently scratch at track marks peeking out from under his sleeve.

The man had hardly batted an eye after he'd offed his wife at 4 o'clock in the afternoon (as was the division's working theory). Now Sharon was stuck in an awkward position, committing to a long night, but not wanting to force Rusty to stay at work with her.

She approached her live-in ward who was obediently sitting at a desk, working on his latest batch of American history homework.

"Rusty, I–"

"I know. I heard Lieutenant Flynn on the phone. You guys caught a case," he said it without looking up and for a moment she worried he was angry. But he turned his face up towards her and she saw he was just fine.

"So what should we do?" He asked plainly. She smiled. _What should _we_ do_. Not only referring to them as a unit, but looking to her for guidance; consulting her. It had been a while since she'd had someone really depending on her and it never got old – that little thrill of being someone's mom.

Not that Rusty would ever really consider her as such. She wouldn't trick herself into believing that.

"Well I'd send you to my son's to hang out – still can't believe you two haven't met – but he's away for a couple weeks in Philadelphia. And I could ask Buzz to hang out with you–"

"Nuh uh." Rusty said immediately. "He's still angry about the whole took-his-lunch-out-of-the-fridge-and-forgot-to-put-it-back… thing," he added, a little guiltily.

"Right." She agreed. Plus Buzz still wasn't quite over Rusty's behaviour during the first few weeks around the office. The man needed some distance.

Sharon rubbed her forehead as she scoured her options. Her mind was still operating at a steady whir, processing case details, personal errands, what to make for dinner (scratch that, probably no dinner anytime soon), and endless to-do lists when –

"What about Brenda?" Rusty offered.

Sharon opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

Practical, close, good for Rusty, on her way – a solution!

She beamed at the boy as she reached for her phone in wordless acceptance.

She couldn't help but feel a giddy thrill as she dialed. _Oh just stop it, you're a full-grown woman. Keep it together._ She flipped her hair to the side and brought the phone to her ear.

It took only a ring and a half for an answer.

"Hi there, Sharon," Brenda's voice was warm and even a little excited.

"Hi! I'm sorry to interrupt your evening."

"No problem at all, Cap'n. What's up?"

"Well we've just been called in to a scene, but I'd rather not make Rusty stay here, or tag along. And I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if I dropped him off at your – well, our place, I guess." Sharon shook her head. _That sounded weird_. But Brenda (thankfully) laughed.

"Of course, Sharon. I'd love to have 'im. When are you dropping him off?"

"I'm about to leave now," as if to make this point, Sanchez rounded the corner and nodded to Sharon who returned the gesture. "I'll stop in and drop him off on the way. What's your unit number again?"

"1604." Brenda said. "It's too bad you can't come too. I just picked up this gorgeous Shiraz," Sharon could hear the disappointment in her voice.

"Well, save a glass for me."

"I'll save the whole bottle – we'll share it some other night."

"I'll hold you to that," Sharon said. "And, Brenda? Thank you. You're… You're a very good friend."

And though she knew it was good to say it, that it was the _right_ thing, she couldn't help but feel a little loss, like she was kicking her small hope.

Because Brenda Leigh Johnson was not gay. No matter how badly Sharon wished she was.

—***—

Brenda Leigh Johnson was not gay. At least, she didn't think so. But she _was _in dire need of friends, having just been essentially cut off from five men she'd confided in, depended on, and spent most of her time with.

And so far, Sharon was a good friend. And so what if Brenda found herself staring at the woman appreciatively. Or thinking about her at night. Or during the day. She was sick of feeling lonely and she'd take anything she could get.

Brenda had brought David along as a liaison, but it was just as Sharon said: it wasn't the same. Nothing was. She didn't see him nearly enough, never mind the rest of Major Crimes.

They'd all promised to keep in touch, but the simple fact was that they were busy – with work, with lives – and though work kept her sane-ish during the day, she felt hollow when she came home.

At least it was finally starting to feel like a home. She'd unpacked her paintings and pictures and hung them up haphazardly around the condo. She was never much for interior decorating, but it was beginning to look at least semi-inhabited.

When Sharon had called, Brenda was at her desk, attacking what she considered her detestable homework.

Her Chief position with the L.A. Bureau of Investigation was composed of her two least favourite things: politics and paperwork.

It was just as D.D.A. Hobbs had described: administration with a side of action.

But that _side_ was a very _small_ helping.

She'd welcomed the interruption of her phone, perhaps sounded a bit too enthusiastic, but had been ultimately disheartened that Sharon was not making a social call. The Captain's voice was soothing and sorry as ever and she'd promised a later which would have to do for now.

It would be good to have some company though and she couldn't help but feel there was some air to clear between her and Rusty.

His arrival was prompt and Brenda barely had the door open before he started in on his recently rehearsed speech.

"She wants me to tell you that she's sorry she couldn't come up to say hi and that I've got money for whatever kind of takeout you decide on," Brenda rolled her eyes as he continued. "And…" he squinted, trying to recover that last bit of information before giving up and shaking his head. "Something about a bottle of wine."

Brenda laughed as he finally crossed the threshold.

"It's alright, I think I get the message," she said.

The first thing Rusty noticed was how spare Brenda's condo was. It looked as if someone was moving out rather than in. Or possibly that she had been recently robbed.

"Where's all your stuff?" He asked.

"It's in storage," Brenda replied, a little too quickly.

He eyed her suspiciously, then dropped his bag. He let the subject pass.

"So what's for dinner?" A couple of months ago, his tone might have sounded ungrateful, but now he just sounded curious. He no longer clung to his short, defensive approach to conversation. Brenda smiled. _It's because he feels safe. With her._

"Well I was going to have a leftovers night, myself, but we could order out if you want."

"Nah, I'm not picky," then he remembered Sharon's description of the blonde woman's experience in the kitchen. "What are the leftovers of?"

"There's some lasagna aaand," she crossed to the fridge to validate her stock. When she found what she was looking for, she turned back to him with a grin.

"Clam linguine!" She said.

Rusty's face lit up for a moment then fell again as he remembered that night, the last time he'd eaten alone with Brenda.

The feeling of Stroh's hand on his skin; the knife to his throat. Even in all his time tricking, he'd never felt that same level of fear.

Brenda watched his expression change and cursed herself.

"I'm sorry, Rusty. I should have thought that through a little more. My mouth seems to be workin' sooner than my brain lately."

"Sometimes it just hits me when I don't expect it. I don't think I've ever been that close to dying before," his eyes looked lost. He snapped himself out of remembrance and changed gears.

"Where can I put my coat?"

"In the closet, just down the hall on the right," she replied.

She began piling up the paperwork on her desk to put away. After all, people were the priority – _living people_ – and paper could wait.

"Brenda?" Rusty's voice called out from the wrong part of the hallway and Brenda winced.

"Yeah?"

He walked back into the room with a look of stone disapproval that she was sure he'd picked up from the Captain's arsenal.

"I thought you said your stuff was in storage."

"You opened the wrong door." She deflected.

"You've been living here for a couple weeks, right? Don't you think you should unpack all the way?" He crossed his arms. Another reminder of his current guardian.

Instead of opening the door he'd known would be a closet (the layout of the two condos were nearly identical), he'd opened the door to what he'd known would be the spare room. And what he'd found was her precarious stash of boxes and furniture she hadn't found places for yet.

"I'll get around to it," she mumbled.

Suddenly Brenda couldn't figure out which one of them was the minor and which the adult.

"You will. And I'm going to help." Rusty said as he took off in the direction of Brenda's room of shame.

The work of unpacking was not as painful as she'd suspected. The twinges of sadness at things she once shared with Fritz were not so substantial or frequent as they would have been months ago. And with Rusty there to lighten the work and the mood, she found it almost enjoyable.

For the most part, they chatted amiably about whatever they were unboxing and placing, but then for a few minutes, Rusty fell silent. Brenda noticed he'd found a box of bullets for her service weapon.

She considered prompting a conversation about what had happened, but was too afraid to force it. She nearly sighed when he brought it up instead.

"Do you ever wish–" he met her eyes and stopped short. "Never mind."

"What?" She was unsure she wanted to hear the question, but continued anyway. "What is it?"

"Do you ever wish you'd killed him? Stroh?"

And there it was. She looked at the floor. How many times had she replayed that scene in her head, re-wrote it with that very ending, just to drive herself mad?

She looked at him again.

"No. I don't think it would have changed anythin'. Except maybe me. For the worse."

He nodded, his expression unchanging.

"D'you wish I did?" She held her breath for the answer.

His brow furrowed.

"I did at first."

Brenda nodded.

"I wanted my mom to come back, and to not have to stick around for a trial, and for everything to go back to normal so bad," he paused. "But then I started living with the Captain. And I realized I never really knew what normal was. I never had a normal life.

"And if you had killed him, I probably would've been put in foster care. Or something worse. I never would've had the same chances I have now."

"With Sharon." Brenda added, stunned by his honesty.

He nodded and resumed unpacking the box in front of him.

The relative silence that fell over the rest of the work was comfortable. They emptied the boxes and rearranged furniture, all with Brenda's gentle direction and Rusty's eager compliance.

When it was time to eat, they sat proudly at the kitchen table and admired their work.

"It's beginnin' to look like someone actually lives here," Brenda said, pointing her fork around the room.

Rusty nodded as he took another bite of warmed lasagna.

"Yeah, not bad. But you still have 6 boxes left in your bedroom."

"How do you–"

"I checked," he interrupted nonchalantly. "And we're going to tackle them right after dinner."

"Oh for goodness sakes, what has she done to you?" Brenda said with a dramatic gasp.

Rusty laughed.

"What's it like? Livin' with Sharon?" She couldn't help it. She was too curious.

"Well at first, all we did was fight. Couldn't agree on anything and we're both stubborn as hell." He took another bite and continued speaking with a full mouth. "She kept pushing me to do this and apply for that. And then I guess," he swallowed. "I realized she mostly just had like, my best interests in mind. I didn't really know how to handle that at first, ya know? But she just kinda wore me down."

Brenda chuckled. _And once again it's like talking to a damn mirror._

Her first conversation with the boy had been like this – him saying things that could've been straight from her mouth. How much it had affected her when he'd talked of dealing with bad men, about how it changed him. _It's becoming a part of who I am,_ he'd said. And his words had haunted her.

And now, as he described the way his relationship with Sharon had progressed, like a microcosm of the way she'd felt. In the beginning with the butting heads and gnashing teeth, and later in the way Sharon had taken care of her, stood up to and _for_ her simultaneously.

"Yeah," Brenda said. "I kind of know exactly what you mean."

—***—

Sharon's night was going far better than expected.

It turned out that the pawn store clerk had been set up by the manager, who'd been shtupping the wife all along.

It wasn't a very good set-up, as it turned out.

D.D.A. Hobbs had stepped in to work a little of her particular magic – something Sharon loved to observe, for more reasons than she cared to admit – and within hours they were headed for a tidy resolution.

Then Provenza – Louie frigging Provenza – had suggested Sharon take the night off and leave it to him and Flynn to wrap up. He'd even added that she'd done, "Good work today. Really good," before parting ways. She was finally feeling accepted. It was a huge leap from the animosity of her former position.

But the topper of this unanticipated sundae was a proposition from Andrea Hobbs.

"Sharon, you're having dinner with me," she stated. "You don't have to run back home to Rusty just yet, do you?" She batted her big blue eyes and Sharon had to suppress what would have been an unseemly giggle. She settled instead for her signature smirk.

"Well I left him with Brenda, so as long as she doesn't mind."

"Brenda? As in, your former superior and my current co-worker? That's… new. She mentioned she moved in to your building, but I didn't know you were friends," Andrea smirked but Sharon thought she detected a little jealousy.

"It's as surprising to you as it is to me. Anyway, I'll check in with her and then we can head out."

Sharon called _her friend Brenda_ for the second time that night.

"Hey, Sharon. Come up with any leads yet?"

"Yes, actually. In fact, I'm more or less done for the night. How are you and Rusty doing?"

"Great! He helped me settle in a little more and now we're sitting down to watch Galaxy Quest. Are you on your way?" That hopeful tone again. Sharon felt a pang of guilt but brushed it aside. She needed to get out. With someone interesting. With someone who was interested.

"I was actually going to grab dinner with… a friend," she turned to look at Andrea who was immersed in her blackberry and too far away to hear.

"Oh!" Brenda sounded caught off-guard. "Hot date?" The tone was a little clipped. Sharon ignored it.

She let her eyes trek the D.D.A.'s body. Andrea felt herself being studied and met the brunette's gaze with a slow smile.

"Yeah, something like that. Do you mind if Rusty stays there for a while longer?"

"Not at all, he can sleep in the spare room if you're out late," she was trying to sound chipper, but she sounded sad.

Sharon sighed inwardly. _If she's sad, it's because you dumped Rusty on her. Not because you're going on a date._

"Thank you. I'll make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it. Talk to you," Brenda said.

"Bye."

—***—

Sharon grinned at her companion.

Andrea was at times puzzling and at times uncomfortably unorthodox (like when she encouraged Sanchez to assault a suspect – Sykes had brought _that_ little incident to her attention). But more importantly, she was charming and intelligent, easy company and a pleasure to work with.

Sharon enjoyed the woman's cleverness and dry wit. And she especially enjoyed the way Andrea looked at her.

When they were working, they kept it professional. No messiness, no obvious flirting. But then there had been a few times like this. Nights when they were working late or days when they needed a break and they'd step out of the office and into a different mood.

Sharon hadn't assumed anything about Andrea's preferences until that first time they'd left the building for lunch. The woman had fired off a number of questions about Sharon's dating life, all while using her bright eyes for a little more… looking than was required.

It felt good to be desired, to be wanted. Especially by someone she admired and liked as much as Andrea. Especially by someone who was fully aware and unafraid of her own orientation.

_No. You are _not _allowed to think about Brenda._

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Andrea asked.

"I guess I was just wishing we didn't work together."

"And why is that? Do tell."

"Because I have a personal rule that says I don't date co-workers," Sharon said evenly.

"There's no _real_ rule that says we can't," Andrea had this way of adding fire to her voice, a slow, blue flame that licked up Sharon's skin.

"My personal rules _are _real rules."

"Believe me, I know. And I don't want to pressure you into anything except–"

"Except…"

Andrea leaned in, letting her top expose a little more of her chest.

"I find you increasingly difficult to resist."

Sharon squeezed her legs together. _God damnit. _She was second-guessing this dinner. She wasn't sure she'd be able to resist the D.D.A.

Her rules and morals and oh-so-important boundaries seemed more and more constricting.

"Well then," Sharon said, "It will be a test of your willpower, won't it?"

—***—

On the way to the parking lot, Sharon realized she'd left her keys at the office. Not really a problem since Andrea had insisted on driving to the restaurant. But it meant once they'd gone back to the building, she had to go all the way up to retrieve them for the drive home.

Andrea also insisted on accompanying her.

As Sharon searched her desk Andrea pretended to be very interested in the contents of the office, passing her fingers over the "Work with me people" sign on top of the file cabinet.

"Are you finding Chief Taylor to be a pain in the ass yet?" Andrea asked.

"I was finding him to be a pain in the ass before I was in Major Crimes and before he was Chief. Now he's making me a danger to myself and others," Sharon deadpanned. She shuffled a few things around in the top drawer before smacking the desk. "Where the in the _hell _did I put them?!"

Andrea crossed the room to join Sharon, pretending to help look. Sharon's skin warmed as the blonde came nearer.

Andrea moved as if she were going to walk around Sharon but instead stayed put halfway, putting the Captain's body between hers and the desk.

She brought her arm around Sharon and opened her hand. The missing keys.

"Found 'em," Andrea said quietly, very close to her companion's ear.

Sharon took the keys and held onto them with both hands. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped it like a life preserver. The blonde's body pressed into her back, breasts pressed to her shoulder blades, gentle hands falling to her hips.

She already felt light-headed but tried to fight it anyway.

"Andrea, I –"

"I know. You don't date co-workers. I'm not asking for a date this time."

And with that, long slender fingers found their way underneath Sharon's limbs to the Captain's shirt, slowly freeing the buttons and exposing her black bra to the open air.

"May I?" Andrea husked.

Instead of words, Sharon let her body reply, arching her spine and leaning back into Andrea's arms, dropping her keys on the desk. Her eyes closed as the blonde pulled aside the bra cups and palmed her breasts with both hands, kneading them firmly.

A hand left Sharon's left breast to pull aside her hair and expose her neck, ripe for Andrea's teeth and tongue and lips.

Sharon let out an appreciative sigh, letting her head fall back to the D.D.A.'s shoulder. It felt too good and it had been too long since she'd had this, had someone to touch and taste her. She justified it to herself as something to tide her over, to keep her sane.

Andrea's hands skimmed down Sharon's ribs, over her hips and then made quick work of the fly on the front of her grey slacks. Sharon inhaled as one hand dipped down into her underwear, between her legs and into the slick heat.

She exhaled as the hand cupped her, moved against her steadily, as Andrea's hips moved against her ass. Sharon ground back against the woman, bracing her hands on the desk.

Then Andrea's fingers were inside her, just two, just enough to hit that rough patch inside every few thrusts. The soft palm flattened against her clit. The free hand returned to squeeze her breast.

They moved hungrily, eagerly together. Sharon reached back and wound her fingers in Andrea's soft blonde hair, tugging on it.

Andrea picked up speed. Sharon moaned. She was close; she could feel the knot turning in her core, begging to be unwound.

"You ready?" Andrea asked between breaths. Her voice further fueled Sharon's heat.

"Uh huh," she managed in response.

And for a moment, amidst the panting and sounds of clothes and bodies rubbing against each other, Sharon pictured Brenda's face, Brenda's body and hands, quite unintentionally, just before Andrea pushed her over the edge.

"Fuck!" Sharon gasped.

She rode out the valleys of her orgasm and shook lightly against Andrea's strong arms. When she stilled enough, those arms turned her around, sat her against the desk, and began the work of making her presentable again.

Andrea zipped Sharon's slacks, buttoned and tucked-in the shirt, combed the brown waves out into a more manageable mess. Sharon sat, mesmerized by the tenderness. Impressed by how delicate and sweet the blonde could be.

Sharon grabbed the busy hands and kissed the woman for the first time, slowly and passionately, placing the hands on her waist. She began to reach her own hand down towards Andrea's centre when she was stopped.

"As tempting as that prospect may be, we should probably get going. God forbid we get caught in this place," Andrea said, bringing the Captain's slender fingers to her lips.

"While I know you're right, I'm rather disappointed."

"Oh? You _are_ insatiable."

"You know what I mean. I'd like to return the favour," Sharon said, and drew Andrea into another kiss.

"Your personal rules are real rules, remember? Besides, anticipation makes it that much better. And I'll wait as long as you need until you decide you can't resist a date with little old me," Andrea grinned and tucked a piece of Sharon's hair behind her ear. "Now let's get you to your car. After all, you looked so hard for those keys."

—***—


	4. Chapter 4

No mature material this time (sorry, folks) but some straight-up angst. And when I say some, I mean plenty. You have been warned. I'm going to see how quickly I can write the next bit. Much of it is already in the works. Enjoy and review!

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Reductions**

Brenda was mad. She sat in her oversized office, behind her oversized desk, and shuffled papers around it.

She'd fill a few out, this one for a departmental peer review, that one for the umpteenth application for extra case funds, and then her eyes would lose focus, becoming overwhelmed.

But that wasn't exactly why she was mad.

_Why wouldn't she just say she wanted to go on a date instead of saying she had to work?_ The thought had been plaguing her all morning. Really, it was just the spark to the fire. Once that question had surfaced, several others hitched themselves to its rear-end and she'd concluded that today would be more or less a write-off.

She'd wondered if it could have been someone from her old office. A nice little evening out alone with the Captain after work. It would mean she hadn't been lying about the case. She shook her head. Even if they hated Raydor less than they used to, she just couldn't picture any of her boys actually making a move.

But _why _had the Captain been so vague about the dinner? Out with _"a friend" _and _"something like" _a hot date. It was infuriating. Perhaps she'd been carrying out a secret affair with a married man? Lieutenant Tao had always had an odd appreciation for the woman…

Brenda let out a dark laugh. She felt the absurd paranoia reaching into her like a blade; each thought a new little twist, twist, twist.

It wasn't like it mattered what the truth was anyway. The Captain had been _out_. Rusty and Brenda had enjoyed their evening – though Brenda felt a little guilty about how her mood had turned after that last phone call. No doubt Rusty had noticed.

He'd slept in the spare room and insisted on making breakfast in the morning before she left for work. It was nice, having the company, having someone around who wanted to be there.

A knock came at her office door.

"Come on in," Brenda called out, pulling a paper close to her face to feign actual work.

D.D.A. Hobbs swept through the office door with two coffees and a Reese's cup. Brenda beamed.

Andrea Hobbs had been friendly enough when Brenda was still with Major Crimes, but since the move into the Bureau, they'd become something like office friends and it definitely didn't hurt to have someone at work so in tune with her candy cravings.

Brenda looked down at her top left drawer. It badly needed re-filling.

Today, Brenda felt as though there was something different about Andrea. She just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Coffee and candy, just what I needed," Brenda keened, relieving the woman of her boon.

"I can tell by the disarray," Andrea replied, gesturing over the paper piles.

"Yeah, I'm not gettin' much done. There's just so much to do and none of its anythin' interesting."

"Sometimes I think I shouldn't have offered you the job at all," Andrea deadpanned.

"No! I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I just, it's an odd time."

"How _are_ the new living arrangements?" Andrea asked, sipping her coffee.

"Pretty good, it's nice to be able to see Rusty. He was over last night, actually. He helped me finally sort out all of my things so now it looks a bit more like a home and a little less like a storage closet."

"Ahhh yes. Sharon told me he was with you," Andrea said. There was something in that, in the way she said the brunette's name.

"Oh, were you on the case with her last night?" Brenda asked, trying to mask the motive in her mouth. "Sometimes I forget you're over in their building almost as much as you are here!"

"Yeah they brought me in to consult. They pretty much had it wrapped up by the time I got there."

Brenda nodded her head, deciding how best to move forward. The new job didn't give her much opportunity for interrogations and she was a little sad to find that she was rusty.

"Did y'all go out celebratin' afterwards?" Brenda said. She bit her peanut butter cup. Andrea smiled back.

"No, no, but Sharon and I grabbed dinner – I thought she called you…?"

"Oh! Yes she did, but she was sort of vague, just said she was going out," Brenda nodded amiably as she tried to keep the bite from her tone. "Did you two have a good time?" _Careful, Brenda Leigh, best not to be too obvious._

Andrea smiled, more softly than usual, her eyelids dropping just slightly.

"Yes. It was… really nice," Andrea said.

Brenda thought she saw the woman's neck flush pink. Andrea Hobbs? Blushing? Brenda filed the tell away for later consideration.

"Anyway, I'd better get out of your hair. You have paperwork, I have skulls to knock. Figuratively speaking, that is." And just like that, Hobbs flicked the switch back. She rose from her chair and headed for the door. "Catch you later, Brenda. Lunch sometime soon?"

"Absolutely, anything to get out of the building," Brenda replied. Her door closed.

Brenda's questions had been answered, a few of them anyway. And yet, now she was more curious than ever.

—***—-

Sharon arrived home sore and exhausted. The late night had turned into an early morning call to work which had eventually turned into Sharon tackling and apprehending their suspect. She was regretting the aggressive style already.

Still, it had felt kind of good to know that she was still capable of getting into the thick of things with the rest of the unit. She'd never had to tackle any suspects in I.A.

As much as she'd wanted to sometimes.

She dropped her things and called out Rusty's name. She'd sent him home early to prepare some things for dinner. She eyed the counter. Bowls of ingredients measured and prepped just as she'd asked. She smiled.

The boy popped into the kitchen after another minute.

"Hey Sharon, I had my headphones on. Didn't hear you come in," he said.

"No worries," Sharon said as she maneuvered the kitchen, warming the oven and greasing a glass pan.

"So what're you making anyway?"

"It's a, egg-cheese-spinach-casserole-type-thing. My mother taught me how to make it but she never actually wrote it down. So I have to test it out from time to time to make sure I still remember how."

"Can I help?" Rusty asked.

"Of course you can."

They worked well together. Sharon slowly yielded more and more of the work to him, which was as much a testament to their mutual trust as to her ability to finally let go of the steering wheel here and there. Rusty slid the pan in the oven when they were done, neatly adding the lid.

"And now we wait," Sharon said. She sat down at the kitchen table as Rusty grabbed himself a Coke from the fridge.

"So how was it last night? At Brenda's?" Sharon asked.

Rusty hesitated. He knew what he had to talk about, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up. He'd been avoiding conversation since he'd met her at the office earlier, but Sharon had been too busy to notice.

"It was really good, we had some leftover lasagna and watched movie," he said. "Although, I'm not sure how much she actually watched."

"What do you mean?" Sharon asked.

"What did you say to her on the phone? When you called from work, what did you tell her?"

Sharon was caught off-guard by the questions.

"I… told her I was going out for dinner and asked if it was okay that you hang out a little longer," Sharon offered. "Why?"

"For lack of a better description, she looked pissed," Rusty said. Sharon winced a little at the word. "She was sort of watching, but she barely laughed. I don't know I guess she was mad that I had to stay maybe. I didn't know what to say to her. I made breakfast in the morning to try and smooth things over," he added, taking a seat at the table next to Sharon.

"Rusty, I'm sorry, she didn't sound mad over the phone. If she was, then it definitely wasn't because of you. You know she loves being with you," Sharon said. She reached out and squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, well. Maybe you should talk to her."

"I will. I'll give her a call tonight and sort this out."

"Okay. I'm going to check on dinner," he said, making his way back to the oven and peering in.

Sharon felt a dull anger rising in her chest. How dare Brenda make Rusty feel at all unwanted or ignored? And what gave her the right to be angry about anything? It wasn't as if Sharon had pushed her into accepting. The blonde had every right to say, "No, come get him," if she had really been that miserable.

But Sharon knew it wasn't that. Brenda wasn't mad because Sharon left Rusty with her. She was mad because the Captain went on a date. That she was taking personal time instead of working every minute of the goddamned day.

_Of course, there could be another reason too…_ Sharon refused to let herself go there. She grabbed the phone.

"Chief Johnson," Brenda picked up after four rings, an edge in her voice.

"Hello, Chief," Sharon smirked at the old title. _I guess you are still a Chief in the new place. And still an ass._

"Captain Raydor, what can I do for you?"

"Well I was wondering if you still have that bottle of wine. I was thinking we could share it and chat tonight."

"No hot date tonight?" Brenda deadpanned.

"Nope," Sharon felt it harder and harder to control her voice when all she wanted to do was yell.

"Sure, then. You can come over here, whenever you'd like," Brenda said. Flippant.

"I'll be over after Rusty and I have dinner," Sharon said, then added. "Which you are welcome to join us for."

"No thanks, Cap'n. I've got Chinese already. See you soon." Brenda said just before hanging up.

_She hung up on me?! _ Sharon slammed the phone into the receiver. Rusty jumped as he turned around.

He almost asked how the call went, then thought better of it.

"I can't tell if the casserole is done. Wanna check?" He offered instead. Best not to taunt an angry woman who knew how to handle a gun.

—***—

Even the way Brenda turned the corkscrew into the top of the cork betrayed her mood. Sharon schooled her poker face.

They'd only said a few words to one another since Sharon entered the condo. Now it was a waiting game. Who would ask the first loaded question?

"So are you going to tell me how the date went?" Brenda lost the war of silence. Sharon smirked.

"It went." Sharon said.

Brenda nodded, her lips pursing as she struggled with the cork. Her face was turning red with strain.

Sharon rolled her eyes as she took the bottle and corkscrew from the woman, deftly working the cork out with relative ease. When she removed it, she handed the cork and screw to Brenda, as if she were the lowly assistant, and poured the wine.

Brenda loudly dropped the cork and screw on the counter, and then snatched up the first glass that Sharon filled and sat down on the couch. Sharon brought the bottle over with her as she sat down too, wedging herself into the opposite corner of the sofa.

"Are you going to tell me who it was with?" Brenda said. She wanted to catch Sharon in her own web. She held back the, _"anyone I know?"_ bit that she ached to add.

"Andrea Hobbs," Sharon said plainly.

"Oh." Brenda replied, and then blushed. She hadn't expected honesty.

Sharon sipped her wine.

"Any more questions? You must not get that many chances to batter suspects anymore," Sharon said.

Brenda flinched. But even as she was goaded she couldn't help herself.

"So you're… gay? Bisexual?"

"Bisexual, I suppose. But I don't really do labels," Sharon answered easily. She'd had to field these kinds of questions before, at first from her kids when she'd started dating women after the separation. Then her parents had asked after they'd seen her kissing the "friend" she'd brought to Christmas one year.

It was always the same, everyone needed to know, and she'd had the answer down to a prepared speech when lengthier explanations were required. She didn't know why people often seemed to want to know the history of it, like there were some mystery that could be unveiled if she only went back far enough into her affection for other women.

Sharon decided she was tired of doing all of the answering. "How about you?" She asked.

"Straight," the word was out of Brenda's mouth before she had time to let herself consider any other options.

Sharon simply nodded and took another sip of the Shiraz.

Brenda was starting to look very uncomfortable and Sharon felt like she'd toyed with her enough for one evening.

"How about we drink our wine and do something that isn't so confrontational?" Sharon warmed her voice, leaving the challenges behind and Brenda responded instantly.

"I like the sounds of that. Still friends? Even though I'm a busy-body?"

"Still friends," Sharon said and offered her hand for a playful shake. Brenda took it eagerly. She ignored the way the older woman's skin felt, ignored the buzz it left behind in her fingers.

—***—

After 2 games of scrabble, both of which Brenda won with a much broader, more vibrant vocabulary than Sharon knew she possessed, they were setting up for a third game.

"So honestly," Brenda started. "How was dinner with Andrea?" She kept her eyes locked on her letters, leaving it as a passing query. Nothing too invasive, she hoped.

"It was great, actually. But I told her in no uncertain terms that we had to remain professional. And that I don't date co-workers." Sharon didn't add that the events in her office had left things a little less certain.

"Oh. That's… that's too bad. I bet you two would make a real nice couple." Brenda said awkwardly.

"Thanks."

"So, has that always been a rule of yours? That you don't date co-workers?"

"Not exactly. I dated a man just after my separation. He worked in Vice."

"And what happened?"

"His wife didn't react very well."

"You? Had an affair?" Brenda couldn't keep the shock from her voice or her expression.

"He'd stopped wearing his wedding ring at work and I'd assumed, well, anyway, it was a mess." Sharon said, ignoring the blonde's disbelief.

"And here I thought your reputation was spotless."

"I never claimed it was," Sharon said, and put the word "remain" down on the board.

They both fell silent for a moment, shuffling letters around their slates.

"Sharon?"

"Mmhmm?"

"I never said thank you. For taking Rusty in. For cleaning up after everythin' I left you with."

"It was my pleasure, Chief. It seems to have worked out pretty well, all things considered."

"Was there ever a moment when you wanted to, I mean not to have Rusty with you anymore?"

Sharon laughed, a warm, rich sound that filled the room.

"Did I say somethin' funny?" Brenda asked, puzzled but smiling.

"Well he thought as much in the beginning. And I think he wanted to get rid of _me_ a few times. It actually reminded me a bit of working with you. Working with someone so determined to retain control and so unwilling to let someone help.

"I mean, I thought about getting rid of you sometimes," Sharon added with a smirk.

"Likewise," Brenda interjected.

"But I figured out that I rather enjoyed that in my life. That bit of challenge. Rusty just brought that feeling to the surface again. I never thought I'd feel the same way as I did," Sharon paused, as though she couldn't quite find the words. Brenda didn't interrupt. She wanted – needed – to hear the end.

"As I did with you," Sharon finished. She looked Brenda straight in the eye and cast a strange, sad smile, accepting what she'd said, what she'd felt; the things she couldn't control.

Brenda warmed, her breath stopping.

"Captain, are you sayin' you missed me?" Brenda tried to add some humour to the line, but it sounded rather sincere to Sharon.

Sharon laughed and returned her attention to her wooden letters.

"Yes, I guess I did."

After another beat, Brenda blurted out what she'd been waiting to spring on her friend the entire night.

"I have a date coming up."

Sharon took a second with eyebrows raised before re-composing herself.

"Oh! That's," she nodded, searching for words, any words, "That's good! Who is he?"

"His name's Michael," Brenda began the speech she'd sort-of rehearsed. "We bumped into each other at Starbucks – literally – and even though it was my fault, he bought me a new coffee. And then we started chattin', he's a lawyer – go figure – and…" She paused, recollecting the meeting, suddenly finding it very hard to remember. "He was very sweet. And polite. And he asked me out."

"But…" Sharon prompted, because she knew that the Chief had a motive for every conversation, whether she immediately realized it or not.

"But I feel like I have nothing to wear. I haven't been on a first date in years. It's a rather odd thing," Brenda said.

Sharon nodded. She wasn't going to let the method slide by easily.

"And…" the brunette teased.

"And," Brenda said, a bit indignantly, "I was wonderin' if you'd help me shop."

There it was. A proposition. Although, not quite the kind Sharon would have preferred. She knew the answer already but let the beat between carry on longer than need be, just because.

"I _might_ be able to fit you into my schedule," she began. "I have some time Sunday."

"Sunday's perfect," Brenda quickly replied. "My date's Tuesday so that'll work quite nicely."

"Sunday it is then," Sharon said. She felt a sudden pang of defeat, a sudden wound. It hurt more than it should, the idea of Brenda on a date, with a man, with what at least sounded like another decent man who could sweep up the blonde and carry her away again. To another life and another place where they wouldn't have any excuse to see each other.

Because that's all their current proximity was – an excuse. An excuse to bump into one another in stairwells, to occasionally spend time together, simply because it was easy. And still, that hurt, knowing Brenda might soon pick up and leave Sharon's life again. Discard the friendship and leave the Captain with yet another pile of loose ends to wrap up.

Sharon's chest tightened; her tendons froze. She knew she couldn't just sit there anymore, pretending to be okay, pretending to be unattached. She stood up.

"So I'll see you then," she mustered with a portrait smile – the one you wear when you have to.

Brenda was confused, upended.

"You're leaving? We haven't finished the wine!" Brenda motioned to the bottle as irrefutable proof.

"Yes, well, I should really get back upstairs and turn in. Still have an early rise tomorrow, you know," she moved for her purse, slung it over her shoulder. "Thanks, Brenda. Let me know what time's good for you on Sunday," and Sharon threw herself out the door, nearly running for the elevator.

She made it at least through her own front door, to her own safe couch, before she burst into tears. She hugged a pillow and tore her glasses off so she could bury her face in it. Better to be quiet, to be subtle about her sadness.

It wasn't fair to feel like this about someone she couldn't have. And it hurt like hell. She'd had crushes on straight women before, but they'd been fleeting things.

Brenda was like a carrot on a goddamned string and Sharon was tired of trying to keep up. She needed to just accept that the woman would be her friend, that that was all she could be, or else risk losing her completely.

And what if she tried anyway? What if she made a move, kissed Brenda on her smart, smug mouth? And what if Brenda pushed her away? No. Sharon couldn't handle that kind of rejection. Not from her.

But that wasn't what she feared most. She feared more that Brenda would kiss her back, perhaps more than that, and then, just as quickly, leave Sharon for the next man, the next husband.

Sharon was so far removed that she didn't hear Rusty tiptoe into the room.

"Sharon?" He said quietly.

She drew a stabilizing breath. "Yeah, I'm here," she couldn't look at him, but at least her face was not stuffed into a pillow.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

_No. No I'm not._

"Yeah!" She said, too brightly. "Of course I am."

But he knew. He knew that strength and rules and _seeming_ were just boundaries for the woman. Simple veneers that could be seen through if someone cared to look. And he did.

His care was what made him sit down on the couch beside her, pull the pillow away, and silently fold her into his arms where she went without question. Because Rusty knew. Rusty was still here. And just like she'd know him, wherever he went, he knew her, wherever she'd been.

—***—

Brenda sat, with her empty wine glass and her near-empty bottle in total silence. She hadn't moved since Sharon had left, there'd been no need to. She poured the rest of the bottle out, not into her own glass, but into the one Sharon had left behind.

She drank from it, tasting a bit of lipstick.

She thought briefly of Michael, sweet, normal, kind Michael, who had green eyes and black hair – maybe he was Irish? She'd have to ask – and pictured what it might be like to date him, to be with him, to have him in her home and share wine.

She took another large sip.

It would be… nice to have new life in her home, to try and start something again. Her life had been so full of endings.

But this could be a new beginning – new job, new home, new man. Somehow, the thought was not as comforting as it should have been.

_It's too quick to judge_. As her mamma always said, one had to jump into the pond before deciding it was the wrong temperature.

She thought maybe, with the right effort, and the right encouragement from a friend – from Sharon – she could do it. This new thing.

Brenda finished the wine and put her tipsy self to bed.

Even with the wine, she turned over in the covers, unable to immediately erase a particular pair of fine green eyes from her head.


	5. Chapter 5

A bit of a shorter update than usual. Shopping woes, work woes, an OIS. Another update on it's way soon (as this chapter may lead you to feel).

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Revealing**

Sharon shuffled her fingers through the Hermès hangers, not fully registering the clothes. _Why did I agree to this?_ The whole outing was more of that special kind of self-torture: picking out beautiful clothes for the woman she was enamoured with; watching said-woman walk to and fro as they both checked her form from all angles. It was almost sadistic.

At least Sharon had vetoed Brenda's suggestion they try JC Penney first.

"Brenda, with the amount of money you make, you can afford _one _expensive outfit," Sharon had said.

"But that's settin' a standard I can't maintain!" Brenda had whined.

"Nonsense. You have plenty of nice clothes. But you can have one thing you spend a little more on."

"Hold up. Sharon Raydor is admitting I have nice clothes?"

"When you avoid florals and pinks, yes," Sharon had admitted.

Since being in the store, Sharon had excused herself from standing by the fitting room door. Well, she hadn't excused herself so much as run from the area as soon as Brenda was surveying her next option.

That morning, Rusty had briefly intervened.

"Are you sure you want to go? I could go with her instead," he'd suggested. He'd been recalling the other night – Sharon in tears, unwilling to speak.

"No way! I will not let you cancel on your friends," she'd said. He was out with a few guys from chess club. They'd picked up bowling as a hobby. The idea cheered her greatly.

"Besides which," Sharon had continued, "I've seen what you and Brenda pick out when you're each on your own. I don't want to imagine what damage you'd do together."

Rusty had gaped and thrown a napkin in her direction. She'd ducked and they'd both burst into laughter.

Sharon shook her head in the store, replaying the events of the previous hours. It had taken her a while to get more comfortable with teasing him, less afraid of alienating him. But once she had, he'd opened up immeasurably. Their relationship was a beacon amidst whatever else was going on in her life lately.

"Sharon?" A meek voice called out from the back of the store. An abandoned voice.

"I'm here," she replied without turning around.

"You disappeared on me! I need help with the next one – it's all zipper and no wiggle room to do it myself." Brenda said, approaching Sharon's side. "Did you find anythin' else?"

"Not yet. Let's deal with what you've already got before we look for more victims," Sharon said. She pushed Brenda towards the mirrored hallway in the back.

Brenda disappeared behind a door for a short time then called out when she needed assistance. The door opened slightly and Sharon slipped in as discretely as possible.

As soon as the door was shut behind her, Sharon turned to the blonde and sighed. The rich burgundy dress looked delectable against the woman's skin. She remembered why she was in the room – not to gawk, but to zip – and began her task, relishing the close proximity. Her fingers worked slowly, covering the spine beneath one vertebra at a time.

When she got the zipper all the way up, she exhaled against Brenda's skin and watched as goosebumps rose.

"All done," Sharon said, taking a step away.

"No you're not. I need your opinion! How's it look?" Brenda asked as she turned and appraised herself in the mirror.

Sharon took a good, long look at the woman. The dress was tight in all the right places, dark seams drawn along the lines of her body, flirtatiously cut at the neck to reveal just enough of her to tease but not deliver.

Sharon cleared her throat.

"I think it will have the desired effect," she said.

"That's it?" Brenda asked. She turned away from the mirror, towards Sharon. The blonde cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. "You don't think it's too sexy?" Brenda's voice was all innocence but her gaze was not.

"Nope, it's just enough." Sharon said, crossing her arms.

Brenda beamed and turned around again.

"Okay. Unzip me! I'm gonna try on this blue one."

Sharon blinked and stepped up to the woman's back again. It felt a little like stepping up to the hangman's noose.

She made quick work of it this time, then stepped back and prepared for her escape from the close quarters. But as her hand fell to the door handle, Brenda dropped the dress, exposing a set of lacy underwear Sharon could not help but recognize. It was the same set she'd complimented that night in the stairwell.

"What are you doing?" Sharon hissed, not opening the door after all, but clutching it with white knuckles. All her skin's colour was in her face and neck now.

"What? I'm just tryin' the blue one on. It's got a zipper too so we might as well save time," Brenda replied, as if she had no idea what she was doing. The expression she was wearing said otherwise. Her lingerie and smirk were a matching set.

Brenda didn't immediately put the dress on either; she pored over it on the hanger, brushing off some imaginary lint, dragging her finger down a seam, all the while keeping Sharon in her peripheral scrutiny.

Sharon couldn't tear her eyes away from the half-naked form. She'd imagined seeing the blonde in this state of undress. But not like this. _And she had to wear that fucking underwear. _

Sharon yanked herself from tunnel vision and pushed herself through the fitting-room door and out into the store, wincing as the door slammed behind her.

_So she knows. _Sharon blinked. _And she's tormenting me because she knows she can. _If that was the case, the blonde had underestimated her self-control.

When Brenda finally re-emerged, a little shame-faced and hugging the burgundy dress to herself, Sharon was looking at handbags. She was perfectly composed as she turned to Brenda and smiled.

"How did the blue one look?" Sharon asked.

"It was okay. I think I'll go with this one though," Brenda said quietly. She couldn't hold Sharon's gaze for long.

"The wine-coloured dress it is, then. I should've known," Sharon said and winked. Like a friend. Like a very good friend. Brenda smiled, appreciative of the kindness in the face of her own reckless behaviour.

Brenda paid for the dress, trying to hide a pained expression as she handed over her credit card, and they exited the store.

Sharon drove them both back to their building and walked Brenda to her door for good measure.

"Do you want to come over Wednesday?" Brenda asked. "A little date debrief and some wine?"

"I can't this week," Sharon said quickly. "But I'll call you. Okay?"

"Okay," Brenda said, a little disheartened. She knew it was time for a goodbye, but she didn't know how to initiate it – a hug maybe?

Sharon shoved her hands in her pockets and shrugged her shoulders.

"See ya!" She said, leaving the blond standing in the doorway, still a little lost.

Sharon hadn't slept much. The result on Monday was a lot of undue anger towards her colleagues and three coffees before it was even time for lunch.

Major Crimes had been working all morning on a double homicide staged to look like a murder-suicide. Earlier that afternoon, she'd split the team up to track down two suspects who'd possibly worked together on the elaborate charade.

Flynn, Provenza, and Sharon had gone after suspect number one – a Mr. Jack Shinley – who had a violent past and every reason to resist arrest.

While Tao stayed behind with some new evidence, Sanchez and Sykes, accompanied by D.D.A. Hobbs, went in the direction of Danny Hendricks. He'd probably be armed, but his record was pretty clean so they were expecting only a little trouble from the would-be accomplice.

It did not go down the way they'd expected.

Sharon apprehended Shinley first. He hadn't put up much of a fight. In fact, as soon as he was in cuffs, he'd seemed a little rattled. But not by the police.

When Sharon asked why, he asked her if they had Danny yet. She told him they were about to.

"Well you better call your people then. He's scared. And he's trigger-happy. Nearly shot _me_ yesterday."

Sharon wasn't sure she believed him, but she called Andrea anyway.

"Tell Sanchez and Sykes – them they might have a jumpy, frightened suspect on their hands and they'll have to be careful. Tell them if they have to, to take him down, just enough to keep him from running."

"Will do, Captain." Andrea replied.

That plan went off-centre too. Danny Hendricks had indeed been scared. And having the police bang at his door had terrified him tenfold. The shots he'd fired through his front door could attest to that.

The Captain was on her way back to central with the first suspect and Lieutenant Flynn when she got a call.

"Captain Raydor," Sharon answered.

"Hey Captain. It's Lieutenant Elliot," the familiar voice replied.

Sharon liked Ed Elliot. They'd emailed regularly to check in and vent since her move and his promotion to head of F.I.D. His promotion was technically still temporary, but she had a feeling he'd retain the role just fine, as was her intention when she'd recommended him.

But up until now, it had just been emails. Ed didn't make social calls. Sharon's skin went cold.

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"I'm with Detective Amy Sykes right now," he hesitated. "She shot a suspect she was pursuing. He's not dead, but it looks like it's pretty bad."

"Shit!" Sharon hissed, unperturbed that her former colleague heard her. He'd heard much worse in their years together. She was thankful she wasn't the one driving. "Okay. How much longer do you need her at the scene? Should I come there?"

"No, we've got her statement. The victim should be at the hospital by now and Detective Sanchez said he'll take her back to the station when we're done here."

"Thanks, Ed." Sharon hung up.

"Was that Elliot?" Andy asked from the driver's seat. "What did he want?"

Sharon hesitated. She glanced at the suspect in the back of the car.

"Not here. Just take us back to the station, get our suspect booked, and then put him in interview one. Lieutenant Provenza and Lieutenant Tao can handle the interview. I have to talk to Amy first," she said the last with a loaded look at Andy.

When he read her expression he hit the steering wheel and swore.

Sharon felt out of her element, being on this side of an I.A. investigation, having one of her own be the suspended suspect with a victim waiting in surgery.

Amy Sykes was only a little green around the edges, but it still hurt to see her break down in Sharon's office as she recounted the situation.

"The suspect fired a few shots through the front door and I," Amy paused, "I never meant to wound him badly, not really. But –"

"But the situation became complex, detective. I understand."

"Well, yes. But even before we went to the suspect's door, I wasn't sure…" Amy let out a shuddering breath. Sharon read a little confusion in the reaction, a little uncertainty.

"Did something come up before you left the van?" Sharon prompted.

"We just thought maybe it would be easier if maybe I took him out altogether…" Amy said slowly, her eyes never reaching the Captain's.

"We? You mean you and Sanchez?" Sharon asked. Amy shook her head. She looked like she'd been caught mentioning something she wasn't supposed to.

"Detective Sykes – _Amy _– if someone suggested you take a shot to take out the suspect, I'd like to know who it was."

After a long pause, Amy responded just loudly enough to be heard.

"D.D.A. Hobbs."

Sharon could feel the floodgates open in her, the familiar swell of anger, waves and waves pounding against her default sense of calm.

She opened her office door and leaned out.

"Julio," she said to the detective leaning against the wall. The low tone was masterful given the shaking anger she was experiencing. "Can you sit with Amy for a while?"

"Sure, Captain," Julio replied, eagerly passing into the Captain's office to console his colleague.

Sharon shut the door behind her and stepped into the murder room.

"Lieutenant Flynn?" She called out. Andy popped his head up from behind a desk.

"Can you by any chance tell me where D.D.A. Hobbs is hiding?" Sharon failed to suppress the growl in her voice.

Andy gulped. He could tell the Captain was ready to blow and he did not want to be around for the debris to fall.

"Uhh, she went that way, Captain. To the break room, I think." He said and pointed.

"Thank you." Sharon clipped and then clicked away, her heels making a harder sound than usual on the tiled floor.

She found Andrea and Michael Tao in the break room, talking over coffee.

"D.D.A. Hobbs!" Sharon practically shouted, causing both of them to jump. Andrea's coffee sloshed out a bit over the edge, narrowly missing her grey suit. Sharon took a little pleasure in that, but wished a little had stained the woman anyway. Some karmic retribution.

"I need to speak with you. In private."

Andrea didn't speak or move. She locked eyes with the Captain and took a sip of her coffee.

Lieutenant Tao's eyes were darting back and forth between the two women. He took a step back.

Sharon closed the distance between her and Andrea and took the cup from the blonde's hand. She poured out the coffee into the sink and placed the cup on the counter.

She narrowed her eyes at Andrea.

"Now." She said, then walked away, indicating that Andrea follow her.

For a moment she thought she wouldn't, that Andrea would undermine her yet again. But the slow taps of compliant footsteps reassured her.

Sharon guided them to an office down the hall, one that had been left vacant by a promoted officer and was as yet unassigned and empty. She waited for Andrea to enter and then closed and locked the door behind them. Andrea made no move to sit and neither did Sharon. She was too tense to sit.

"I guess I don't have to ask why you want to talk to me. But I have no idea why you're mad. I was just reinforcing your orders." Andrea said. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You know for a fact you were doing no such thing. I said take him 'down' not 'out.' I do not ask my officers to consider killing a suspect if I think it isn't necessary." Sharon said.

"What does it matter? Sykes didn't kill him, you got your man red-handed; it turned out just like you wanted!" Andrea scoffed.

"Except one of my officers is in a very bad state because she heard one order then another and became confused when she should have been focused. She shot between two targets because you undermined my authority and nearly jeopardized my investigation!" Sharon didn't try to hold back her volume anymore.

"It's not just _your _investigation. It's mine too." Andrea said.

Sharon gave a dark side-smile and took a few steps closer to the woman.

"You only get a say this early if I _ask _for your opinion. Until then it is my investigation and you are not permitted to alter my orders."

"I didn't _alter _your orders, Sharon. I gave a suggestion. One which your detective did not take," Andrea said. They were close together now, nearly nose-to-nose and set in challenging stances.

Sharon couldn't take it anymore. She was frustrated, beyond frustrated, and she did the only thing she could think of.

She pushed Andrea, just slightly, so the blonde legs hit the desk behind her. Andrea's hands went out to brace herself and she looked around wildly at the Captain.

"Sharon?! What the f–"

Before Andrea could finish, Sharon's hands were gripping the lapels of her blazer and Sharon's lips covered hers ferociously, painfully. Andrea's eyelids dropped. Her arms stayed back against the surface of the desk, which was helpful when Sharon pushed her up further to sit on it.

Sharon's hands raked the woman's body, frantically undoing the buttons of the blazer and seeking out the skin beneath the shirt. Andrea brought up a hand to wind into Sharon's hair and pull her even closer.

Sharon dropped her hands to Andrea's thighs and encouraged her to wrap those long legs around her back. Andrea eagerly complied, grinding against the woman's stomach.

Sharon was rough with her, pushing her back and swatting her hand away when she tried to reach for the Captain's blouse. Sharon wanted – needed – to be in control of the situation, of any situation. She leaned Andrea further down onto the desk, unwrapping her legs and breaking away from her lips.

Andrea panted and waited for whatever Sharon was planning next. Sharon hiked up her skirt and climbed the desk to straddle Andrea's hips, leaning down to claim the blonde's lips again, biting them a little more than necessary. Andrea thought it might leave a mark or even draw blood but couldn't bring herself to care.

Sharon pinned the woman's arms above her head, against the desk, and began grinding her body down hard. They spent a few minutes like that, Sharon increasing her pressure and speed, desperately trying to empty herself of anger, of hunger. She shuddered a little, then reached one of her hands down between them, scratching at Andrea's stomach before reaching her hand into the blonde's pants.

Andrea wrestled an arm free and grabbed the wandering hand. She turned her face away from Sharon, the only move she could make to break the kiss.

"Not here," Andrea managed to get out between breaths.

Sharon glared down at her prey.

"Are you giving _me_ orders now?"

Andrea turned her face back to look into the angry green eyes. Andrea let out the barest laugh.

"Nope, just reinforcing yours," Andrea said, a challenging glint in her gaze. "Not at the office. Technically not with me at all, but then we both knew you'd disobey that one."

Sharon reluctantly removed her hand from the trousers, bringing her fingers to Andrea's mouth. She traced her wet fingertips over Andrea's lips, pushing them in when the mouth fell open, letting Andrea taste her own arousal.

"Then where, do you suggest?" Sharon husked and withdrew her fingers.

"My place. Tonight." Andrea said.

Sharon moved to get off the desk, re-adjusting her skirt and smoothing it down. Andrea pulled herself up too and put herself together again. She slid off the desk and pulled Sharon in for a long, slow kiss, tongues tangling a little more softly now.

Sharon pulled away for a moment.

"You know I'm still pissed at you right?" She said seriously.

Andrea nodded and smirked.

"I know. I'm kind of enjoying it, to be honest."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 - Comforts and Discomforts**

Sharon found Andrea's home without too much difficulty as per the instructions texted to her phone. She parked in the driveway alongside Andrea's deep-blue Jetta.

She liked the look of the one-story home. It gave off an earthy, cottagey sort of air. Not at all what she'd expected from the D.D.A.

She knocked then entered, also as per instructions, and slipped off her shoes.

"Back here!" Andrea's voice rung out, leading Sharon through the kitchen and dining room and into a cosy family room where Andrea was lounging on a chocolate-coloured loveseat. The blonde sat up, massaging a kink out of her neck.

"Sorry I'm late, I had to drop off Rusty on the way." Sharon said.

"He's not with Brenda?" Andrea asked.

"No, he's staying with a friend. He said there's a group of them going out, but I'm beginning to think he's seeing someone." Sharon said. She dropped her purse and collapsed beside Andrea.

"Oooh, boy or girl?" Andrea asked.

"Boy, I think. He keeps mentioning a 'Derek.'"

Andrea laughed.

"Just as gay as his would-be mom then?" She joked.

Sharon glared at her.

"Not funny."

Andrea put her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry. I'll endeavour not to piss you off anymore today. Speaking of which, how's the O.I.S. investigation going?" Andrea asked as she rose and crossed the room to the liquor cabinet.

"It's looking up a little. Mr. Hendricks isn't as badly hurt as they first thought, so he'll be patched up and ready for an interview in a matter of days. Amy's still a bit shaken, but the temporary suspension will give her some time to process." Sharon said.

Andrea returned with two tumblers full of scotch, handing one to Sharon before sitting back down.

"Then everything's just fine," Andrea tested, taking a sip.

Sharon took a sip too, shooting Andrea dull daggers over her glass.

"I know," Andrea said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, I should have just relayed your orders." She put her hand on Sharon's thigh and donned an exaggerated pout. "Will you ever forgive me?"

Sharon took another big sip of scotch, relishing the burn in her throat.

"I will consider your apology," she began. "But you still have to make it up to me."

"Oh? And just how do I do that?" Andrea said as she leaned in close.

"Well first you can let me finish this divine whiskey, perhaps even a little more. And while I'm doing that, you can go put on some music you think I'll like. And then I'll see how I feel."

"Oh, you are such a tease," Andrea hissed as she stood again.

"Aren't I, though?" Sharon said. She perched her feet up on the coffee table and watched the blonde carry out her task.

First, Andrea brought the bottle of Scotch over and placed it on the table next to Sharon's feet. The brunette was soon to require a refill.

Next she made her way to a unit adjacent to the liquor cabinet where she quickly selected a few discs to play for her cocky captain.

When she pressed play, she turned to Sharon for approval. Nat King Cole's smooth voice wafted out of the speakers. Sharon smiled and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Mmm…"

"It is acceptable, milady?" Andrea curtsied.

"It's just as excellent as the alcohol."

"And what does milady wish now?" Andrea cooed.

Sharon couldn't wait anymore.

"Come here." She said, already feeling her head swim a bit – the effects of her indulgence. She put her drink down as Andrea wandered over.

Instead of sitting down again, Andrea knelt in front of Sharon, grabbing her thighs and encouraging her to scoot forward on the couch.

Sharon did so and leaned forward to pull Andrea into a forceful kiss. She wrapped an arm around Andrea's neck.

She twisted her tongue deftly with Andrea's. Andrea moaned into Sharon's mouth, sending a ripple of arousal down her spine.

Andrea pressed her body closer into Sharon, further between her legs. Her fingers then made quick work of Sharon's skirt and Sharon helped her pull off the offending article, followed promptly by her underwear.

Andrea pulled Sharon by her ass so she could meet the woman's exposed folds with her mouth.

Sharon sighed. Her eyelids dropped. She let a hand fall to Andrea's head, her fingers winding in soft blonde hair.

Sharon moved her legs around Andrea's head and rested her feet on the coffee table, testing it. She thanked her personal gods that it was close enough and firmly rooted enough not to slide.

It provided the perfect leverage for Sharon to buck her hips and fuck Andrea's mouth. Andrea let out a surprised little sound at the reversal of control, smiling against Sharon's crotch as the brunette rocked harder.

It was Sharon's turn to gasp when Andrea slid two fingers inside of her, twisting them and grazing against the rough patch inside. Sharon paused for a moment in her control, letting Andrea do all the work.

Andrea's mouth was not so hot as Sharon's burning centre. Sharon delighted in every turn of fingers, every tease of tongue, every long hold of lips on her hardened clit.

She couldn't take it for long. Andrea moved her arm faster, harder, pounding her fingers into the soft, wet flesh.

Sharon bucked up against the woman's mouth, holding the blonde's hair even tighter. She let out a little cry, then shook – once, twice, three times – panting over the crooning soundtrack.

Andrea pulled her fingers out painstakingly, then licked them clean. Her mouth was red and wet.

She rose and sat next to Sharon on the couch. She dragged her hand over her lover's body.

"You know, I do have a room in this house with a bed in it. We could even go there. If you feel so inclined." Andrea said.

"I'm pretty open to suggestions right now," Sharon replied.

Andrea's bedroom was a deep maroon, the bed wrapped in white.

"Someone's prepared," Sharon said as she picked up the black strap-on sitting on the comforter.

Andrea smirked as she took off the rest of her clothes, stripping down to nothing at all.

"I like to plan ahead," she replied. She moved to take the toy from Sharon's hands but Sharon kept it firmly in her grasp.

"Nuh uh, it's my turn." Sharon stripped off her shirt, leaving on only her bra. She stepped into the harness as Andrea watched in captivated silence.

"Get on the bed," Sharon ordered as she tightened a strap. Andrea followed her order, laying on her back on the soft white sheets.

Sharon moved on top of her, swiftly capturing her mouth and palming a full breast. She pushed her tongue into Andrea's mouth and pinched her nipple between her fingers. Her other hand moved down to where Andrea was slick and warm. She let her fingers glide in between the folds, stroking her clit, teasing her entrance.

They moved slowly against each other, the toy rubbing up against Andrea's leg. When Sharon felt the woman's clit harden enough, she made another order.

"Turn over, on your hands and knees," Sharon said.

Sharon moved to let Andrea roll. When she was in position, bent and ready before her, Sharon licked her hand from palm to fingertips and then rubbed the toy with her wet digits.

She inserted it slowly, a centimetre at time. Andrea moaned in approval.

Sharon let it glide all the way in, as far as she could go, then began an easy rhythm, rocking in and out of the woman. She enjoyed the way the straps and pressure of the toy felt against her own clit as she fucked Andrea from behind.

Andrea reached one hand to her sensitive centre, rubbing herself in tandem with Sharon's thrusts. Sharon picked up speed, each little slap of flesh registering more loudly. Their combined panting filled the room. Then she changed pace, allowing a few sudden, hard thrusts. Andrea let out a little cry at the force.

Sharon ramped up then, moving her hips faster, working a few muscles she hadn't used in a while. She steadily increased her speed and force, pulling Andrea's hips harder into the toy. Andrea's hand on her heat picked up speed too, rubbing wildly. Sharon knew she was close.

She pushed the woman down further, Andrea's body falling down onto the bed, her legs straightening. Sharon bore down on her, into her, moving at her highest speed, taking Andrea's audible cues as a sign of her impending release. Sharon poured all of her anger from the events of the day into every move, releasing in her own way.

She felt Andrea come around the toy, the little shakes as the full feeling registered and slowly passed.

Sharon removed herself from the woman, shucking the strap-on and climbing back into bed to lie beside her and stroke her back.

"It's been a while since I used one of those," Sharon said, still breathless.

"You," Andrea took a breath, "You wouldn't know it." She laughed.

Andrea pulled her hair out of her face as she turned to face Sharon. Sharon moved in closer and kissed her softly.

"Are you going to stay the night?" Andrea asked.

"Sure," Sharon said.

Hours later, Sharon turned over in the sheets for the hundredth time. She couldn't get comfortable in the big white bed. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees.

She looked over at Andrea, peacefully breathing and unaware of her partner's restlessness. Sharon sighed.

There was a reason she couldn't get comfortable, a reason she couldn't sleep quietly next to the woman.

She was still unsettled by how easily Andrea had disregarded her feelings. That evening's apology rung false in her ears. The D.D.A. wasn't really sorry. She was sorry she'd been caught. She was sorry that her secondary "recommendation" hadn't been followed perhaps. But she was not sorry for what she'd done. She'd apologized to make Sharon feel better. And it had only made Sharon feel worse, more uncertain about what they were doing.

Sharon knew what a forced apology sounded like. She'd had to deal with them for years – at work, in various relationships – and it was the most regular reason her dating life had become so sparse in the last decade.

It was trust. It was lack thereof. If she couldn't trust Andrea to relay a simple order, then how far could the relationship really go? She was old enough and knew herself well enough to know it was a bad way to start.

Her mind drifted. That wasn't the only reason she felt uncomfortable here, uncomfortable in this bed.

She imagined another blonde, another woman probably fast asleep by now. She wondered if she'd be comfortable in that bed, next to her body instead of Andrea's.

There was so much unresolved feeling left in Sharon and it felt like a lie to spend this night with Andrea when she kept wondering about, kept wanting, someone else.

Sharon leaned over and put a hand to Andrea's arm, rousing her from sleep. Andrea turned to her.

"Hey," she said drowsily.

"I think I'm going to head home after all. Have to be up early tomorrow," Sharon said quietly. The words were true, but they felt less than honest.

"Okay. Don't worry about the door, I'll lock it later," Andrea said. She lifted herself up and planted a sleepy, goodbye kiss on Sharon's lips.

Sharon moved out of the bed, dressed quickly and left, driving herself all the way home to an empty bed in her empty condo.

Tuesday night had come quickly. Brenda had scrambled after work to make herself date-presentable, pulling the dress on frantically and nearly stabbing herself with her high heels, trying desperately to make it on time.

She was somewhat unsuccessful on that front. She was twenty minutes late for their first date – for her first date in a long while – but Michael didn't seem to mind. He was waiting eagerly in front of her building, patient and understanding as Brenda hopped into his car.

At dinner it was more of the same. Careful questions by both, bright answers from Michael, slower replies from Brenda. She found it hard to keep her attention on his words sometimes, her thoughts drifting elsewhere. She did a lot smiling and nodding, hoping she was encouraging him enough to seem accommodating.

But her heart wasn't in it.

They shared little details of their respective caseloads, not so much as to break confidentiality, but enough to share work woes. She found herself complaining more than usual. Not the ideal tenor of conversation for a first date.

Michael _was_ Irish Catholic, as Brenda had suspected. She wondered if Sharon had an Irish background too, or if it was just the Catholicism she shared with this man. Brenda shook the thought away. _Be present._ She chided herself.

When the dinner ended, he drove her home. He gave her a soft, shy kiss when they said goodbye. He was respectful and kind. She said she'd call him. She wondered if she meant it.

She ambled into her condo, pulling the dress off as soon as she was in her room. She went to throw it on the floor, into the pile of her week's-worth of laundry, then stopped herself, remembering the garment's ridiculous price tag.

She hung it up carefully on a hanger and looked at it closely. She'd managed to spill a bit of wine on it of course, but given its colour it wasn't too noticeable. There was also a sauce stain. This was why she didn't buy expensive things. No clothing could withstand the damage of Brenda's eating habits. She chuckled to herself.

She sat down on her bed, staring at the dress, recalling the day she'd bought it, replaying the incident in the changing room with shame.

She'd been baiting Sharon, quite obviously. There was the premeditation of that Sunday morning, laying out the lingerie she'd known Sharon would recognize. There was the none-too-subtle stripping down with the woman's eyes cataloguing her every curve.

What kind of reaction had she expected? Why couldn't she just be comfortable having Sharon as a friend?

Brenda wasn't entirely naïve. She knew herself better than that. She'd been testing the waters, seeing how far Sharon's self-control would take her, wondering how alone she was in her attraction.

But Brenda was not altogether confident in the situation. She couldn't bring herself to say the words, to test the woman even further. She didn't know how to make a move because she couldn't figure out what that would mean. And she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She frowned when she remembered how quickly she'd responded to Sharon's questioning of her orientation, the word "Straight" falling out her mouth on instinct but not on its own merits.

She'd never dated or slept with women before, so she guessed it was more or less true, but she'd been attracted to other women, admiring of their features and qualities. But it was so much different in Sharon's case. Brenda had never felt so debilitated and lost, so helpless as she did in the Captain's presence. She never thought she'd make it to this age and run into something so unfamiliar and foreign to her usual sensibility.

She sighed and lay back on her pillow.

She wanted to call her, she wanted to hear the brunette's low voice, to share the awkwardness of her evening with someone who cared.

_I want her. _Brenda blinked at the realization. But even in that thought, there was uncertainty. What did she want with Sharon? What did she want _from_ Sharon? And what implications would her decisions have, if she chose to make them?

These thoughts echoed long into her night, leading her into an eventual, restless sleep.

Sharon was shucking corn husks at the kitchen table, preparing them for the boiling water. Dinner would be ready in a half hour, she estimated. Rusty was still in his room where he'd been hiding since they'd come home earlier that evening.

It had been over a week since her night with Andrea and she'd been avoiding the woman. What was she going to say? _Sorry, Andrea, you're great and I enjoy spending time with you, but I'm hung up on a straight, emotionally-unavailable woman and also I'm not sure I can trust you_.

Sharon laughed darkly. She couldn't imagine those words coming out in a way that sounded reasonable, or the reaction any of those admittances would elicit.

Rusty finally emerged as she was filling their plates.

"Hey, I was just about to come get you. Dinner's ready," she said as she handed him a full dish. He wouldn't meet her eyes as he took the plate and headed back towards his room.

"Hey! Are you not even going to eat at the table?" Sharon called out, distraught at his quietness.

He returned slowly back to the kitchen, reluctantly taking a chair.

She joined him and they ate in silence for a full minute before she couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to drag it out of you?" She said, she hoped with enough humour to lighten the mood.

Rusty took a bite of corn and set the cob back down on his plate.

"Is it about the boy you've been seeing?" Sharon tried. The worst case would be him shutting her down and calling her bluff.

"I'm not – we're not _seeing _eachother. I don't even think he likes me," Rusty finally admitted.

"How do you know?" She asked.

He met her eyes for a moment; she could see a familiar torment there.

"Because the other night when I was at his place, I–" he hesitated, unsure he wanted to finish his thought. "I made a move, okay? And he like, freaked out. I guess that's what I get for going after a Catholic kid," Rusty said sadly.

She reached for his hand and held it. She was relieved when he didn't shake her off.

"It's hard, it's really hard when you're not sure and he's probably not sure either. Maybe he's never tried before. That's a tough situation." Sharon soothed. "Is he still talking to you? Calling or texting?"

"He texts still. Not nearly as much. But at least he's not ignoring me." Rusty said. Sharon dropped his hand and they resumed eating.

"On a lighter note, it's your birthday in a couple of weeks, right?" Sharon said. "I was thinking of having some people over, you can invite your friends, anyone you like. And you can invite Derek," Sharon added with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Rusty looked at her suspiciously.

"How did you know when my birthday is?" He asked, then realized, "You looked at my file."

Sharon took a sip of water.

"Maybe…" She said conspiratorially. "What do you think? Would you be okay with a party?"

Rusty shrugged.

"I… I guess. As long as it's something small. I don't want like, a big deal made or anything. It's never been a big deal and I don't want anything ridiculous," he said.

Sharon nodded.

"Nothing ridiculous. I can probably manage that. But invite him, okay? It'll be enough time for things to have blown over and he might open up a little more, who knows."

Rusty chewed his food slowly, considering something.

"You know, Brenda's called here like three times." He said.

Sharon stared down at her plate, pushing mashed potatoes around with her fork.

"I know. I heard the messages."

"Have you called her back?"

"Why do you ask?" She responded noncommittally.

"Because. She wants to talk to you. It's probably something important," Rusty said, his eyes carrying a very serious, very certain meaning.

"I will call her when I have some time," she said, rising from the table. "Now finish your dinner and then go to work on your essay. I want to take a look at it before I go to bed."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – A night out on the town**

"Hey, Chief. What're you up to?" David Gabriel waltzed into Brenda's office with a broad smile on his face.

"Oh, the usual, David: stoppin' criminals in their tracks with the power of the pen," she said sarcastically as she lifted her black Bic.

"That riveting, huh? Then you won't mind if I interrupt?"

"Not at all; in fact, I welcome it! Have a seat," she said, motioning to a chair.

She hadn't seen David nearly enough in the past few weeks and even when she did it was only for a few minutes here or there.

He looked good. Much better than he had when he'd had to leave Major Crimes. There was a time when she'd thought he'd never recover the same confidence and humour he once had. But the way he seemed lately reminded her of his best days in his former job.

He took a seat.

"I was talking to Julio the other day, we've been keeping in contact a little more, and we were saying we should go out sometime soon, a little group of us. You know, reminisce a little." He said.

Brenda beamed. She missed the guys immeasurably and the thought of spending time with them again lightened every load in her heart.

"That would be great!" She said. "Who all would comin' along?"

"Julio and Mike and you and me."

"What about Louie and Andy?"

"Well the plan's to go to Ol' Larry's, and Andy would rather avoid the bar. But he offered to drive us home later if we need it," David replied. "As for Louie, well he's not exactly the late-night partying kind."

Brenda didn't think any of them fit that bill, but she also couldn't imagine Louie Provenza thriving in that scene. She laughed at the image of him sitting stiffly at a bar full of people, gripping a glass of scotch.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You guys can even come see my place after!" Brenda said brightly.

"Definitely. So, the plan is to cab it from work together. Julio and Mike'll meet us here, and we can grab dinner and then drinks after. I was thinking Friday night, if you're up for it." David suggested.

"Perfect," Brenda replied.

David stood.

"I'm buying you at _least _two drinks at the bar, by the way. I have a feeling after all of that," he pointed to a looming pile of paper on her desk, "you're going to need at least that much."

Brenda looked at the pile sadly.

"I certainly will," she agreed.

Friday night went from good to great in the span of a few hours. Brenda was a little hesitant at first. She knew David had patched things up with their former co-workers, but she still had a fear that the evening would become uncomfortable.

But when Mike and Julio met them at the Bureau building, they greeted David and Brenda like long-lost family, old crimes forgiven.

They grabbed a quick dinner first, catching up on everyone's family dramas and new relationships. David shared that he was dating someone new, to which Julio responded with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Hope she's better than the last one," he said with a smirk. His tone was light, containing no trace of bitterness.

"Well she's not a lawyer, at least," David said with a laugh.

After being endlessly teased, they finally got Brenda to reveal she'd been on a date the previous week.

The boys let out a series of attention-seeking cat-calls and Brenda buried her face in her hands.

"It was so awkward!" She cried.

"Weeeell, Chief. It's been a while since I dated, but in my experience, the first person you date after a long relationship is not often taken seriously. You're still feeling how it felt with…" Mike avoided using Fritz's name, "your ex-husband."

Brenda pulled a disgruntled face.

Julio clapped a hand to Mike's back.

"What our logical friend Mr. Spock means to say is, if he's not the right fish, throw 'em back, Chief."

Brenda guffawed.

"When did you become such wise ol' men?" She drawled. "And wouldja stop calling me Chief? The only one that still has to do that is Gabriel," she said, throwing an elbow into David's arm.

"Ow! Damn, you have pointy little elbows!" David said, then added, "CHIEF."

Ol' Larry's Bar was just down the street from the restaurant so the group made their way there promptly after supper.

Brenda hadn't hung out in a bar that wasn't strictly for cops in at least a few years. As far as bars went, she liked the interior of this one – red leather seats and a classy crimson bar back.

The four of them sauntered up to the bar and took up four stools set around the corner of it so they could see one another.

They ordered promptly: for David, a pint of Guinness; for Julio, rum and coke; for Brenda, a whiskey sour; and for Mike, a Pi_ñ_a Colada.

"With a little umbrella in it," Mike added, miming placing an umbrella in a drink, in case the bartender misunderstood.

They all looked at him incredulously.

"What?" Mike said.

"Mike if you order like that again, they're going to ask us for I.D." David deadpanned.

"Or just throw us out on principle," Julio laughed.

Brenda snickered.

After the next round (and after deciding Mike was not allowed to order for himself anymore), Brenda mustered some of her liquid courage.

"So how's Cap'n Raydor doing as your new boss?" She tried to mask the motive.

Mike and Julio looked at each other, each smirking a little, before turning back to the Chief. Julio took a sip of his rum.

"She's no _you_, Brenda." Mike said.

Brenda rolled her eyes at what she suspected was a pre-planned response.

"Well thank you for the needless flattery, but I wasn't fishing. I'm serious! Is she treatin' you guys all right?" Brenda asked.

Julio paused, giving the question some thought.

"She's actually doing really well," he said finally, without any sarcasm. "At first I thought she wouldn't last a week."

"Especially with all the fuss Louie was making," Mike amended. Julio nodded.

"But even he's warmed up to her somewhat." Julio said.

"Key word being: somewhat," Mike smiled.

"Plus she's sticking her neck out for us now. It's a lot different than it used to be." Julio finished.

Brenda nodded, a little sad to realize she really had been adequately replaced. At the same time, she felt an odd sense of pride. Sharon was doing just fine in her new position, even with all of that initial resistance. She truly was a woman of remarkable fortitude. She could tell her boys were finally giving the Captain her due respect.

Brenda couldn't help but grin as she sipped her whiskey. She didn't see Mike and Julio exchange a look when they noticed her strange, sudden glow. They certainly hadn't anticipated that reaction.

"Aren't you two neighbours now?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, well, sort of. She's a few floors up from me." Brenda said, wiping away her silly smile.

"Of course she is," David laughed, finishing his beer.

"It's not so bad as I thought it'd be." Brenda said. "Anyone else ready for another round?"

The three men raised their hands simultaneously.

Brenda couldn't say how many rounds they had at the bar, only that at one point she'd had two drinks at once. After that, things were a bit spotty.

The next thing she could remember was the four of them piling into a cab bound for her building. They were all talking at twice their usual volume, no longer inhibited by propriety.

"Brenda, do you have any food at your house?" Julio slurred.

Before she could answer, Mike chimed in.

"Oh my god, you know what would be so good right now?"

Brenda turned to him with a goofy grin.

"What?" She asked him, breaking into anticipatory giggles.

"Pancakes!" Mike exclaimed.

"DRUNKCAKES!" David cheered from the passenger seat. The cabbie shook his head.

"Mmm, oh god that sounds good," Brenda hummed at the thought of maple syrup. "But I don't trust any of us with a stove right now," she was surprised at how little she was slurring considering how heavily her head was swimming. She could hear her accent thickening though.

Thick like maple syrup. She was drooling now.

Then a silly thought occurred to her. An absolutely insane thought. Just the idea of it sent her into another fit of giggles.

Julio and Mike started cracking up even though they had no idea what was so funny.

"Was it something I said?" David called out.

"Not this time," Brenda said, catching her breath. "I've got an idea."

Sharon didn't have a clue why her cell phone was ringing at 2:30 in the morning. She hoped like hell it wasn't a case.

She scrambled out of bed, trying to find her purse in the dark. _Why the hell didn't I leave it on the nightstand?_

When she finally plucked the phone from her purse, she answered right away, afraid she'd miss it if she checked to see who was calling first.

"Raydor," she croaked, her voice still thick with sleep.

The first thing she heard was snickering in the background.

"Captain! I'mean, Sharon! It's Brenda Leigh!" A sickly sweet and clearly inebriated voice spoke up.

"Hello, Brenda. And what do you need this late at night?"

"Well I'm with David and Julio and Mike and we're on our way to the buildin' but we were wondrin," Brenda paused, as if she'd completely lost her train of thought.

"What were you wondrin, Brenda Leigh?" Sharon couldn't resist imitating the Southerner's thick accent. She was grinning from ear to ear now; drunken Brenda sounded utterly adorable.

"We were _wonderin'_ if you would come make us pancakes? At my place?" Brenda's words were sugar-coated.

Sharon heard the three men start chanting what sounded like "drunkcakes" in the background.

She shook her head, leaving a beat of silence as her initial response. She was more or less awake now anyway. Still, was she really considering saying yes?

"Shar? You there?" Brenda asked.

Sharon laughed at the shortening of her name.

"Yes, Brenda, I'm here. Text me when you get to your place and I'll come down. Do you have everything to _make _pancakes?" She responded.

"Everythin' but eggs," Brenda answered. "See you soon!"

Brenda waited impatiently after she sent Sharon her arrival text. She tried to focus on the scene in her condo. It was rather entertaining.

Mike had gravitated towards the stereo and was now poring over her CD collection, selecting a suitable soundtrack for their stupor.

David and Julio were meanwhile inspecting her small store of liquor, trying to figure out what kind of drinks they could make with Crème de Menthe, a few fingers of rum, and a half twenty-sixer of vodka.

"Chief – I mean, Brenda," Julio smiled. "Do you have any shot glasses?"

"Sure do," Brenda replied, stumbling a little as she went to retrieve them. She grabbed four glasses, considered it, then grabbed one more. She presented the boys with them and they began pouring vodka into each. And a little bit on the top of the cabinet too, but she could clean that up in the morning.

David realized there was a fifth glass. He smirked at Brenda.

"You think the Captain will partake?" He asked.

"With a little persuadin," Brenda said mischievously.

"Well then, we'll wait for her first. I can't wait to see how you persuade her," David said with a laugh.

"Hey!" Brenda said and hit his arm. "I will have none of your sass, Mister Gabriel!"

A knock at the door stopped Brenda's heart for a moment. She lit up.

"Brenda, you listen to The Black Keys?" Mike called out in disbelief as she crossed the room.

"What? Oh. Charlie left that at our old place ages ago," Brenda called back over her shoulder as she groped for the door knob.

Brenda finally managed to pull the door open for her personal chef. Sharon was a vision in her doorway. The woman had on a tight beige camisole and plaid pyjama bottoms, her body framed by a blue, silk kimono. Her auburn hair hung in a messy bun. She looked good enough to eat.

"Brenda? It'd be a shame if you didn't invite me in after going to such trouble to get me here," Sharon interrupted Brenda's longing gaze.

"Oh! Of course. Sorry, Cap'n." Brenda stepped aside to let her in.

Mike had finally managed to get The Black Keys to play on the stereo after much fiddling. His usual technical skills were a little stunted by the liquor.

Sharon put her carton of eggs down on the counter next to the pancake supplies Brenda had amassed. She turned a front burner on.

"Wait, Sharon, before you get cookin' we were wonderin' if you'd do a shot with us." Brenda said.

Sharon quirked an eyebrow.

"A shot of what?"

"Vodka!" David called out from the couch where the three men had settled, lining up the glasses on the coffee table, spilling even more.

"Sure," Sharon said with a laugh.

Brenda grabbed Sharon's hand, feeling a little brave, and dragged her to the other side of the coffee table. Brenda dropped to her knees on the rug. Sharon followed suit a bit more gracefully.

The five of them each picked up a shot.

"To old and constant friends!" Mike exclaimed as they raised the glasses.

"And to new ones!" Brenda added. They clinked their glasses over the table and Brenda caught Sharon's eye.

She grinned at the brunette and they all threw back the booze.

"Hoo!" Julio gasped, giving his head a shake. They all took a second to recover.

Sharon cleared her throat.

"And now," she said. "It is time for pancakes."

Brenda was hypnotized by the way Sharon moved around the kitchen. She made everything look effortless and beautiful.

The four drunkards were seated around the kitchen table, exchanging stories of past shenanigans and breaking out in renewed laughter every few minutes.

It wasn't long before Sharon was serving the first round of perfectly browned pancakes, the very first of which went to Brenda.

"Ladies first," Sharon said.

"Thank you, Cap'n," Brenda said, batting her eyelashes in a cartoonish way. She then drowned her plate in maple syrup.

They enjoyed their pancakes in silence for a bit, the music still ringing throughout the condo.

"These are really, _really _good, Captain." Mike said enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Mike. And you know, outside of work you can just call me Sharon." She replied warmly.

"Aren't you havin' any?" Brenda asked her.

"No, I'm not really hungry. I'm having enough fun watching you lot." Sharon replied.

A half hour later, the boys were considerably less rowdy and a little sleepy. Brenda helped as much as she could as Sharon cleaned up dishes and put the ingredients away. The blonde mostly accomplished making more of a mess.

Andy arrived promptly, coming upstairs to retrieve his wards.

"Andy, I could've dropped them off. You didn't have to drive all the way here." Sharon said as they watched Mike, David, and Julio stumble to their feet and head for the front door.

"Not a problem, Captain. This was the plan. Besides, you think I'd miss the three drunk stooges?" He said. "Not for the world." They both laughed.

Sharon closed the door behind them and returned to the sink to wash the frying pan. She had just begun scraping off some particularly stuck batter when she felt Brenda's body behind hers. Sharon froze.

Brenda's hands fell to Sharon's hips, brushing aside the kimono and moving over the Captain's body. She rested her head against Sharon's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Sharon said stiffly.

"Nothin."

"Brenda, stop."

"Why?"

Sharon removed Brenda's hands and spun around, forcing the blonde away.

"Because you're drunk. And because you don't know what you're doing."

"I do so," Brenda pouted. "I– I want you."

"You don't know what that means!" Sharon shouted. She swallowed, a little guilty at the outburst.

"You don't know what that means." She repeated quietly.

Brenda's eyes started to sting. Her vision blurred and she lost her balance and stumbled against the counter. Sharon grabbed her waist to steady her.

Brenda threw her arms around Sharon and hugged her like a stuffed teddy bear.

"Brenda, honey," Sharon soothed, hugging the woman back. "You're tired, I'm tired, how about we just put you to bed?"

Brenda nodded into the woman's shoulder.

Sharon guided her to the bedroom and tucked her under the comforter, not bothering to remove the blonde's dress.

Brenda relaxed quickly, her limbs going limp and her eyes falling shut.

"I'm going to leave you some water and Tylenol on the nightstand. Take them as soon as you wake up and then go back to sleep for as long as you can, okay?" Sharon said.

"Kay. Sharon?" Brenda said quietly, her voice already fading.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for comin' over."

"You're welcome. Goodnight, Brenda Leigh."

"Night," Brenda managed before passing out entirely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 – Found and Lost**

In an impressive display of her inebriated memory, Brenda woke up in the morning and downed her Tylenol and the entire glass of water Sharon had left for her. She promptly feel asleep again for several hours and when she woke up, she felt a little nausea but no headache, leaving her ready enough to face daylight.

Of course, all she did was laze around her apartment.

She considered calling Sharon to thank her, but thought she'd give the woman a little space before making contact again.

She stacked a few of her favourite movies on the coffee table – Rear Window, Fried Green Tomatoes, and The Usual Suspects – and changed into her favourite pyjamas.

The movies she picked were ones she'd seen a hundred times each and could recite on demand. They left her mind open to wandering, open to thinking about what she'd said to Sharon the night before.

She hadn't meant to broach the subject with Sharon in quite the way that she had, but she was glad it was finally out of her mouth.

_I want you_.

She knew she'd meant it. Just about everything she'd said under the influence had been true.

Except when she'd told David she could drink half her age in shots. That was an outright lie.

"_Why would a man leave his apartment three times on a rainy night with a suitcase and come back three times?_" Brenda said in tandem with Jimmy Stewart.

In a moment of silliness, she daydreamed Sharon wearing Grace Kelly's elaborate party gown, spinning to show it off, smiling and laughing.

Brenda grinned to herself.

She worried her lip between her teeth.

What if she was clinging to Sharon because she knew the woman could take care of her? That had been her downfall with Fritz. She'd been convinced marrying him was right, and she didn't entirely regret it. But she'd always known she'd used him more as a crutch than a partner, as support for all of her worst habits. She didn't want Sharon to become that too.

She left the couch briefly to make popcorn, dousing it in butter when it was done, and wishing she had someone to share it with.

Sharon didn't usually let her laundry pile up. She tended to do it promptly as the week went, especially now that she had to do it twice as much for her live-in, endlessly-stained teenager.

She had run the stairs, in the morning this time, and she had a free evening ahead of her. Rusty was in his room listening to music. She popped her head in and began to silently mouth words, making broad hand gestures to get his attention. He eventually noticed and shucked his headphones.

"Alright, alright. What's up?"

"I'm just going to go do some laundry. Do you have anything you want me to wash?"

Rusty looked around his room.

"I don't think so. I did two loads a couple days ago so I'm still pretty good."

"You did your own laundry." Sharon said in disbelief.

Rusty shrugged.

"Well yeah, I'm not completely useless." He said.

"I just meant – usually you leave it for me." Sharon smiled. "Thank you."

"You've been busy, it's cool. I should be doing my own anyway." Rusty said.

Sharon turned to leave, then turned back.

"Are you sure you don't need anything washed for Friday? Something special you want to wear for the party?"

"Sharon! I've got it all under control. I have what I'm gonna wear hung up. Everything's taken care of." Rusty said with an eye roll.

Sharon threw her hands up and left the room.

"Okay! Okay!" She said on her way down the hallway.

She picked up her phone from the kitchen counter and texted Brenda – something she'd been resisting doing for the past 24 hours.

_Do you still do laundry on Sundays?_ She typed.

_Yep! I was just about to head up there with my basket. Reasonably piled this time._

_How responsible of you. Mind if I join? I have a couple loads to do._

_I'd love the company._

_I'll be in the laundry room in 15._

Sharon carted her rolling laundry bag off the elevator and scooted towards the room with the rumbling machines.

She found Brenda there, already tossing items into a front-loading washer.

"Hey, you," Sharon said softly, opening up the machine next to Brenda's.

"Hey, I was hopin' I'd hear from you. I meant to thank you for coming over the other night. It was awfully imposin' of me." Brenda half-smiled a little guiltily.

Sharon smirked.

"You thanked me already. Just before you passed out cold." She threw a pair of underwear into the machine, momentarily distracting Brenda.

"Oh – did I?" She mumbled. "I think I lost a bit of the night to all the alcohol." She laughed nervously.

Sharon hummed. Brenda closed the door of her washer and swiped the little card they'd given her to access the machines. It didn't register. She swiped it again and again, getting increasingly frustrated.

"Dangit!" She said.

Sharon had finished loading her first pile. She took the card from Brenda's hand, their fingers brushing slightly.

"Here," Sharon said as she swiped the card expertly.

"Thanks," Brenda said, taking it back from the woman. "You'd think I'd know how to do it by now."

Instead of returning to their respective condos, Brenda suggested they sit and wait in the room next door – a little common area with a couple couches and a TV.

"How bad was I?" Brenda asked when they'd settled onto a couch.

Sharon raised her eyebrows.

"How much do you remember?"

Brenda sighed.

"Well I remember calling you, and then I remember we all had a shot of something," Brenda began.

"Vodka," Sharon added.

"Right. And then you made the best pancakes I ever had in my life," Brenda said.

"So far so good."

"And then I guess the guys left?"

"Andy picked them up," Sharon nodded, bracing herself.

Brenda hesitated.

"And then," she started. "Then I think I misbehaved a little. Or a lot."

Sharon smiled.

"And I overreacted. I guess I just haven't had that many women drunkenly groping me lately," Sharon teased.

Brenda put her hands over her face.

"Oh god," she said through her fingers. "I _was_ that bad wasn't I?"

Sharon laughed.

"No, not _so_ bad. And the way your head hit that pillow, you wouldn't have gotten very far anyway."

Brenda peeked between her fingers, then sighed and removed her hands.

"Anyhow, I just wanted to apologize. And to thank you. And to apologize again."

"Apology accepted," Sharon soothed. "So you never told me how your date went."

Brenda's entire body language drooped.

"That bad, huh?" Sharon asked.

"Honestly? It was nice, he was nice, dinner was nice – I just couldn't get myself to really enjoy it." Brenda picked at a loose thread in the couch cushion.

"Well you tried, anyway. I think you get at least five points for that." Sharon said.

Brenda looked up at the woman's devilish smirk and returned it with her own.

"Am I on a points-system now?"

"You certainly are."

"How many did I lose Friday night?"

"Well let's see. You gained 10 for going out with friends," Sharon added some exaggerated ire to her voice. "You lost ten for waking me up in the middle of the night. You gained fifteen for being cute."

"Only fifteen, huh?" Brenda pouted. Sharon narrowed her eyes for a moment.

"Fine, make it twenty."

Brenda grinned.

"You gained another 10 for allowing me to witness a sloshed Mike Tao. You lost five points for making a mess of your kitchen as I was trying to clean it. And finally, when you were a little forward and a _lot_ drunk, I think you pretty much broke even." Sharon finished.

"So that's," Brenda finished counting in her head. "30 points includin' the awkward date. That's pretty good, all things considered."

"You're on the board, Chief. And so far, not in the red."

"How many points do you have, Cap'n?" Brenda teased, enjoying the little game.

"In the past week and a half? I think I'm probably in the other direction."

Brenda's face fell.

"Why? What happened?"

Sharon paused. She wasn't sure she wanted to share the more intimate details of what happened with Andrea, but she had to say something now.

"Well I've been ignoring Andrea. Which isn't particularly fair. But she just," Sharon looked down at her hands. She began again. "I don't know if I can trust her, partly based on a stunt she pulled at work last week. And I know I need to tell her something, but I can't decide what that should be," Sharon finished and looked up at the blonde.

Brenda smiled sadly.

"That's a tough one." Brenda mulled it over. "You could ask her to be just friends again. Reinforce your co-worker rule."

"I could. It feels like a lie. But it's better than any alternatives I was coming up with." Sharon's eyes lost focus.

"It'll be okay," Brenda said. She took Sharon's hand in hers. Her stomach flipped.

Sharon squeezed the hand and smiled before letting go.

"I know. Now I just have to do it."

"You're a woman of action, Sharon Raydor. I know you can do it. For now, let's finish our laundry." Brenda said brightly as she stood from the couch.

Sharon thrilled at the words, 'our laundry.'

"By the way," Brenda added as Sharon stood up. "You get at least fifty points for those pancakes. And another hundred for puttin' up with us drunks."

They finished the rest of their clothes with more of the same: sitting and waiting in the common room, chatting comfortably. Sharon walked Brenda to her door when they were done.

"Sharon, could you grab my key? My hands are full," Brenda said. She stuck out her hip and Sharon noticed the bulge of the key in Brenda's back pocket. She met Brenda's gaze, noting the mischief in those deep brown eyes.

Sharon didn't break eye contact as she reached, down, tortuously slow, and fished the key out. She raked her nails over Brenda's ass. She watched Brenda exhale as she did it. The blonde's skin went a little pink. Sharon unlocked and opened the door, holding it ajar with her other hand as she slid the key back into the pocket, just as slowly as she'd removed it.

Brenda shook herself out of her stupor and stepped into her apartment, dropping her basket on the floor and then quickly turning back around. She looked at Sharon's mouth. _Now or never._

She lunged at the older woman, throwing her arms around Sharon's neck and mashing their mouths together, causing Sharon to drop the handle of her laundry bag.

Sharon didn't mind. She wrapped her arms around the blonde's tiny waist and pulled her closer, warming as their bodies met as soundly as their lips.

Brenda went to work devouring Sharon and when her tongue pushed for access, Sharon opened her mouth eagerly.

A door opened down the hall, making both women jump. Brenda tore herself away from a panting Captain.

Brenda looked towards the sound and gave a little wave to an elderly woman.

"Hey there, Mrs. Bidden." Brenda said as she tried to control her breathing. Mrs. Bidden returned the wave and smiled sweetly. She gave no indication of having seen the two women feasting on one another in the hallway.

"Hello, Brenda!" The old woman slowly made her way over to them. "And who is this?" She asked when she got closer.

"Sharon Raydor," Sharon's voice was even and controlled. She offered her hand to Brenda's neighbour.

"Barbara Bidden, pleased to meet you." the woman said as she shook Sharon's hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm.

"Sharon lives in the building too!" Brenda added cheerily.

"Oh really?" Barbara asked. "Which floor?"

"The twenty-third," Sharon replied.

"Ooh! The city must look even more wonderful from there." Barbara chimed.

"It's quite a view," Sharon agreed, smiling warmly.

"Well I want to stay and chat, but I've got to get going. Wouldn't want to keep my son waiting."

"Are y'all goin' out?" Brenda asked.

"He's taking me to dinner even though it's _his_ birthday. Should be a hoot!" Barbara said. "You two have a good night!"

"Night!" Brenda called after the woman as she ambled towards the elevator.

When Brenda turned back to Sharon, green eyes were boring into her.

"I'm sorry about that. It's not that I don't want to be seen…you know," Brenda said.

"It's fine. I'm not that big on PDA, myself." Sharon said. She seemed a little distant.

"Why don't you come inside," Brenda said shyly.

"Maybe another time. I'm pretty tired." Sharon righted her laundry bag. Barbara's words reminded her of something. "But I did mean to ask, would you come for Rusty's birthday party on Friday?"

Brenda was disappointed that her offer had been rejected, but she pushed on.

"Sure! Sounds great. When should I be there?"

"Everyone's coming around 7ish, but you're welcome to come early and have dinner with us." Sharon said.

"I'd like that." Brenda replied. She chewed her lip for a second. "Sharon, did I do something wrong?"

Sharon shook her head and smiled.

"Not at all. I'll see you Friday."

"Kay, night."

Sharon took the stairs up, her thighs still a little sore from her earlier exercise.

It had taken much of her willpower not to follow the Chief into the apartment and have her there and then. She wanted to go slowly, but Brenda made it very difficult to stick to her guns. She felt a little bad for making Brenda wait, but she needed to be sure. Both of them did.

Sharon sighed as she settled into her bed to read. She brushed a finger over her lips and shut her eyes. Kissing Brenda had been even better than she had ever imagined.

She couldn't wait to do it again.

"Brenda _is_ coming for dinner, right?" Rusty called out from the family room. He was lounging on the couch with his comic book – _graphic novel_, he'd corrected Sharon – in his favourite t-shirt and jeans. Sharon was busy searing their steaks in a wide pan.

"Theoretically." Sharon replied. "I told her to be here at 5:30."

A knock on the door made Sharon nearly drop her hold on the pan.

Rusty rose from the couch and tossed his book on the coffee table, breaking into a light jog to the door.

Upon opening the door, Rusty's eyes went wide.

"Wow. Uhh, hi, Brenda." A smile crept onto his face. "Come on in, I think dinner's almost ready."

"Thank you, this is for you. Happy Birthday!" She handed him a gift bag and pulled him into a hug.

"You didn't have to get me anything. I thought Sharon told everyone no gifts," he said loudly enough for Sharon to hear.

"You know how it is – no one listens to me," Sharon replied as she plated the steaks. Rusty put the gift bag on the table and looked to Brenda for permission.

"Well, go on! Open it up!" Brenda encouraged. As he went to work on the explosion of tissue paper stuffed in the top of the bag, Brenda rounded the kitchen counter and sidled up to Sharon.

"Sure smells amazin," she said close to Sharon's ear. Sharon finished adding the finishing touches to the three plates and turned around to get a good look at the woman.

Her mouth felt dry all of a sudden. It probably had something – or everything – to do with what Brenda was wearing, which was an all-too-familiar red dress with white accents. The same one she'd worn for her interview with the mayor. The same one that had fueled many of Sharon's fantasies in the months that followed.

Sharon currently felt the same way she had that day: like her brain had fallen out the back of her head.

Rusty's voice stirred both women from their silent appraisal.

"An iPod?! Brenda, this is WAY too much!" He exclaimed, holding up the box for Sharon to see.

Brenda laughed.

"Well your good guardian here may have mentioned you lost yours last month, and I just couldn't resist." Brenda said.

"I– I don't know what to say," Rusty looked dazed by the blonde's generosity.

"I think the words you're looking for are 'thank you.'" Sharon said. She nudged Brenda towards the table. "Now the two of you sit down. Everything's just about ready."

They did as they were told and Sharon delivered the completed plates promptly: pan-seared steaks with a little homemade cranberry sauce and sweet, summer salads.

"Jeez! It's like livin' in a restaurant, ain't it?" Brenda said to Rusty.

Sharon poured wine for each of them.

"Yeah, pretty much," Rusty agreed. "Although the service isn't always up to par."

Sharon glared at him.

"You know, I can take that food _away_ as easily as I put it there." She said.

"Just kidding!" Rusty said. "I'll shut up."

"No you won't." Sharon said with a smirk.

"No, you're probably right." He said.

Brenda chuckled at the two of them.

"So Rusty," Brenda began as she bit into a piece of steak. "I hear someone special may be comin' tonight?" Sharon had explained the crush situation in one of their conversations over laundry and Brenda, as always, could not resist the opportunity to interrogate.

"You told her?" Rusty whined.

Sharon shrugged and smiled.

"She beat it out of me." Sharon said.

"Great. Now I have both of you here to potentially embarrass me," Rusty said.

"Embarrassment's a part of growin' up, young man. I'll try my best not to do too much damage though." Brenda beamed.

Dinner tasted even better than it looked. The two women teased Rusty only a bitmore. He took care of the dishes when they were done – "I don't care if it's my birthday. You cook, I clean. That's the deal," – and Sharon put the stereo on. She had let Rusty choose the music that evening, giving him free reign. She noted he'd chosen mostly classic rock, nothing too contemporary. Trying not to irritate some of the older guests, probably.

The first guest to show up was, unsurprisingly, Mike Tao, who was there at 7 o'clock sharp.

"Am I late?" He asked as he let himself in the open front door.

Brenda laughed.

"Nope, you're the first one to arrive other than me."

He handed a gift box to Brenda. She took it with a conspiratory wink.

Rusty caught sight of the gift.

"I said NO gifts!" He called out dramatically, throwing his arms up into the air.

Brenda shrugged.

"Well I guess I can just take it for myself, but you wouldn't want to hurt Mike's feelings," she teased.

"Thanks, Mike. You really didn't have to." Rusty said.

"It was no problem. Happy birthday!" Mike shook Rusty's hand firmly, then reconsidered and wrapped the boy into a hug instead.

The rest of the guests arrived soon after. The Major Crimes crew all showed up, even Louie Provenza, and Rusty's friends arrived almost all at once, instantly boosting the volume of the room. Most of the adults took up posts around the kitchen and dining area while the kids sprawled over the family room. A pile of gifts amassed on the coffee table.

Buzz wandered the condo, his camcorder strapped to his hand, taping anything that he thought was 'candid.'

Brenda and Amy were sitting amongst the younger crowd. They'd been called over by the girls and were now being grilled on every detail of their outfits.

Derek arrived at the same time as Andrea Hobbs and they entered the party almost unnoticed.

When Rusty's eyes found Derek, his face lit up completely. Sharon caught his smile and looked to the door, her eyes shifting quickly from the apple of Rusty's eye, to the blonde D.D.A.

She gulped. She steeled herself and crossed the room to greet her.

She smiled at Derek as they passed each other. She could tell by the way he was looking at Rusty that there was something there. She hoped for Rusty's sake that it was the _right_ something.

Provenza was sitting at the kitchen table, visibly uncomfortable, gripping a glass of bourbon from a bottle he'd brought himself.

Andy, Julio, and Mike were lined up against the wall, watching their former boss be interrogated by teenage girls and leered at by teenage boys.

Andy was doing a bit of leering himself. He couldn't help it. He'd always had eyes for the blonde and now that she was divorced and not working with him, what could it hurt?

"So who do you think she's wearing that dress for?" Andy said casually to Julio and Mike. The latter two men exchanged glances.

Andy picked up on it and turned to them.

"What? Did I miss something?" He smirked. "She told you something that night you were all drinking, didn't she?"

"Not exactly," Julio said. He scratched at the back of his head.

"You'll think we're crazy." Mike said. "_I _think we're crazy."

"Come on! You're killing me here with the suspense!" Andy laughed. "It's not Provenza, is it?"

"Ha ha," Louie chimed in.

Julio and Mike looked at each other. Mike took a drink of his beer.

"Our guess is the Captain." Julio said quietly.

Louie had been enjoying a particularly large sip of bourbon and nearly choked on his drink when he heard the word 'Captain.' His coughing garnered him a few looks from the kids in the family room.

"What?" Andy said with an incredulous laugh. "You're joking." They had to be pulling his leg.

Julio shook his head.

"Everytime the Captain came up in conversation, the Chief had this... look on her face." Mike said.

"David noticed it too," Julio added.

Andy looked over at Sharon, who was having a whispered conversation with Andrea Hobbs in front of the fridge. He looked back over at the Chief, who was craning her neck, looking around the condo for _someone_. For a brief moment he pictured the two of them together.

He wiped the thought out of his head quickly. If he thought about it too long, he might have to leave the party to maintain any sense of decency.

"Jesus," Andy said.

"I don't believe it." Louie said as he poured himself more bourbon and stood with the other men.

Andy looked over at Sharon again. Her face was contorted in unease. He couldn't see Andrea's face, but he figured it was probably not a happy one.

"Looks like the Captain's already got more woman trouble than she can handle."

In front of the fridge, Sharon was trying not to cause a scene.

"I didn't know you were coming," she said to the D.D.A.

"Maybe that's because you didn't invite me. Or call me. Or even speak to me outside of what was necessary for work. What the fuck, Sharon?" Andrea hissed.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. That was not fair and I feel awful about it. But I had to… figure some things out first and I didn't want to do anything I'd regret."

"Something you'd regret? Is that what I am to you?" Andrea said, struggling to maintain her whisper.

"No! No, that's not what I meant!" Sharon rubbed her forehead. She could feel a headache edging in.

She noticed her co-workers eying her from their place against the wall and she nudged Andrea's arm.

"Can we have this conversation some other time?" Sharon pleaded.

Andrea folded her arms and glared.

"Okay! Okay, fine. Just. Just come with me." Sharon said and she led Andrea down the hall away from the party.

Brenda watched as the two women disappeared into the back of the apartment. The colour drained from her face and she couldn't really hear what Amy was telling the teens about her vintage skirt. She couldn't hear anything except the blood beating dully in her ears.

So that was it then. Andrea swooped back in to take her rightful place and Brenda would be left at the sidelines, wishing she'd stepped up earlier.

Brenda could feel her eyes stinging and she got up from the couch and went to the window, pretending to be captivated by the view.

Rusty tore his attention away from Derek long enough to see Brenda's retreat. He excused himself from Derek's company and went to stand by the window with her. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Brenda wiped at her eyes and then folded her arms.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Rusty said, low enough for only her to hear.

She turned to him and pasted on a smile. She couldn't stand the thought of taking away from his day. He'd had so many things in his life go to hell, this party didn't need to be one of them.

"Nothin's wrong! Just enjoyin' the view you have here. It's a lot better than it is way down on sixteen."

He looked at her skeptically. He leaned into her side.

"You're not allowed to lie to me. It's my birthday, remember?"

She smiled at him. A genuine one this time.

"It's not important," she said softly.

"Yes it is." He said.

In her bedroom, Sharon was doing damage control.

"You're backpedaling," Andrea said.

"I'm not. I just want to go back to being professional and being friends – why is that not an option?" Sharon tried.

"Because we fucked, Sharon! And now, what, I'm not good enough to see you anymore? I don't get it! I thought things were going fine," Andrea put her hand on Sharon's hip. Sharon grabbed the hand and held it in her own.

"I never said you weren't good enough – you're amazing. I just can't be with you." Sharon tried to translate exactly how she felt towards the woman, but couldn't form the right words to make it understood.

"Careful. That's a hop, skip, and a jump away from 'it's not you, it's me,'" Andrea said, a little lightness returning to her voice.

Sharon laughed.

"Can we please sit down and have a full conversation some other time? I want to say it properly and I want to stay friends. If that's at all possible."

Andrea sighed. She nodded after a long pause.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I just wanted to see you." Andrea said.

"No, I'm glad you came. It was childish of me not to invite you." Sharon gave the woman's hand a squeeze.

Sharon frowned as she heard shouting coming from down the hall. She could hear Rusty's voice rising. He sounded furious.

She and Andrea left the bedroom and came upon the frantic scene. Nearly everyone in the room was standing now, observing the argument at the centre. Brenda was holding on to Rusty, keeping him from lashing out. Andy was standing in between Rusty and an older, vaguely familiar woman.

"Rusty…" Brenda said softly, tugging on his arm.

"So you came here to what, humiliate me? Convince me to come with you?!" Rusty shouted at the stranger.

Then Sharon registered the familiarity. The woman was more gaunt and frail than she had appeared in her DUI mugshot. But there was no mistaking who the uninvited guest was.

Sharon Beck had finally come to claim her son.

The woman just stood there, wavering on her feet. _Clearly drunk._ Sharon felt rage rising in her chest.

"It's your birthday, baby boy. I had to come see how you're doing in your fancy new digs," she slurred.

"How did you even find me?" Rusty said, his eyes filling with tears.

"How do you think? I got the address from your case worker." Ms. Beck said, finally turning to see Sharon standing in the hall. "And you must be the new _me_. How's he doing? Has he fucked up your life yet, too?" The woman's lips curled into a snarling smile.

"You have no right," Sharon growled. Her right fist was balled so tightly that her nails were biting into her palm. "You have no right to be in this building, no right to be in this home, no right to be in his life."

"I have every right, lady. I'm his mother," the woman replied, taking a stumbling step closer to Sharon.

Rusty tore his arm away from Brenda and sprinted out the front door. A second later, Derek was running after him.

Sharon took another step into Ms. Beck's space, forcing her to step back.

"I hope you're proud of yourself." Sharon said. She pushed past the woman and ran out the door after Rusty.

Louie Provenza stepped up next to Andy, standing toe-to-toe with the intoxicated woman.

"Buzz? Are you getting this?" He asked without turning to the man behind him. Buzz was indeed holding his camera up, capturing Sharon Beck's every slurred word.

She turned, with some difficulty, to focus her attention on the cameraman.

"What are you gonna do? Make me a home movie?" She laughed darkly.

"Not exactly," Louie began. "But I'm sure a judge will find it very intriguing proof that you're unfit to take care of yourself. Never mind your son."

Sharon Beck made another snarling expression before Andy and Louie guided her towards the door.

A few minutes later, Brenda heard her phone ringing in her purse and lunged to pick it up.

"Hello?"

Brenda could hear Sharon crying on the other end of the phone.

"Sharon, honey, are you okay? Where's Rusty?"

"I don't know! I ran out to find him and he's gone! He's not answering his phone and I don't know where he went and he's gone, Brenda!" Sharon sobbed.

"Where are you? I'll get my car and we can drive around. He couldn't have gone far." Brenda shouldered her purse and gestured to Andy and the boys to come over.

Sharon caught her breath.

"I– I'm down the street from my building," she replied weakly.

"Stay there. I'm on my way." Brenda hung up the phone and dropped it in her purse. She addressed her former co-workers.

"I'm going to go get Sharon and see if she can think of anywhere he might have gone. Y'all start lookin' anywhere you can think of. Andy, get Ms. Beck and question her and see if she knows of anyplace, and then see if you can hold her with any charges."

"Louie's with her in the hallway," Andy offered.

"We could say she was trespassing. Won't hold up for long, but it might work for the short-term," Julio added.

Brenda nodded.

"Buzz you see about getting that video of her actin' like an idiot ready for her interview. It might prompt her to help us out if she can hear how awful she sounds."

"Sure thing, Chief." Buzz said.

"The rest of you, help in any way you can. Call and leave me a message if you find anything. Call me first, not Sharon, okay?" Brenda ordered.

They all nodded.

Brenda took off, nearly running towards the elevator and frantically pushing the call button.

Every second she wasn't at Sharon's side felt like an eternity.


	9. Chapter 9

This is the final chapter of this story. Another one is in planning stages, but it will probably have to wait until after National Novel Writing Month (November). So hang tight, enjoy, and let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 9 – The only light I know**

Brenda sat stewing in Electronics, tapping her fingers restlessly against the desk. She angrily eyed the woman being questioned, mentally throttling her skinny neck.

Andy was onto his next question.

"Let's try this again, Ms. Beck: is there anywhere, absolutely _anywhere _you think Rusty would go?"

"How the hell would I know," she growled back. "Why don't you ask that hag he's been living with?"

The woman was clearly sobering up. She was probably feeling a bit of pain already. _Good._

Brenda watched Andy's neck muscles tighten, his hand balling into a fist. Her boys – _Sharon's_ boys – had become so protective of the woman. Even now the rest of the squad was tirelessly searching various neighbourhoods, checking with Rusty's friends, searching shelters and homes, even tracking down Daniel Dunn (as if he'd ever return to that house, but they had to be sure).

The search was too new – there hadn't been enough time to start an official search, so they were all working off-hours, scouring Los Angeles for the boy in their own spare time. It would be heartwarming if the whole situation wasn't so awful.

Brenda scratched at her leg.

She knew she had to be here, to make sure everything was on track to bring Rusty back to Sharon as soon as possible. But she wanted desperately to return to the woman's side. It had been torture to drive the shell-shocked woman around town. Brenda had had to drag any suggestions of hiding places out of her, being very careful so as not to shatter her in her fragile state.

The worst had been when they'd stopped by the place Major Crimes had first picked Rusty up so many months ago: the street where he'd been hooking. As soon as it was in sight, Sharon had broken into a fresh burst of tears, shaking in the passenger seat and covering her eyes.

As soon as Brenda was sure he wasn't there, she'd sped off, finding a parking lot far enough away where she could pull over and simply hold Sharon for a few minutes, letting her empty her sobs into blonde hair.

And now this horrible woman was calling Sharon a hag and showing no concern at all for her own son. Brenda seethed.

"What the fuck are you even holding me here for? I'm not being charged with anything," Sharon Beck barked at her interrogator.

"Right now, you're here out of the goodness of your heart," Andy said, fighting desperately to keep control.

_Her black, useless heart. _Brenda thought coldly.

"But if you prefer, we can charge you with trespassing and hold you here a little longer." Andy added.

Sharon Beck looked at first like she might offer some retort, calling their subtle bluff. But she leaned back in her chair instead, relenting.

"Look, I don't know where the kid went. I haven't seen him in a while, I have no idea what hole he'd stick his head in." She replied.

Buzz burst into Electronics, cradling a laptop.

"Chief? I have the video ready to go." He said.

Brenda leapt out of her chair and seized the computer from his grasp.

"Good. Did D.D.A. Hobbs give you the waiver?" Brenda asked.

Buzz fished the document out of his back pocket and handed it to her.

"Thank you," Brenda said. She stormed down the hall and into the room where her prey was waiting.

"Hello, Ms. Beck," Brenda said as she dropped down into the seat beside Andy. She put the laptop down and slid it over to her partner who went to work opening the video.

"You remember me, don't cha? I was the one restrainin' your son from attackin' you." Brenda said, a bitter smile on her face.

Rusty's mother made no reply, avoiding Brenda's eyes.

When Andy was ready, he turned around the laptop around so Sharon could watch the footage of herself, mere hours earlier, berating her son. To Brenda's relief, the woman did flinch a little when she heard her own voice.

Andy took back the laptop when the video was done.

"Does that seem like a mother's love to you? It seems pretty terrible to me," Brenda said boring her eyes into the woman.

Sharon's head drooped.

"I don't know if that file you _stole _from Rusty's case worker mentioned this, but he's been livin' very happily, and very well with his foster mother. And quite honestly, I don't think you're up for the job." Brenda said. She slid a sheath of papers to Sharon Beck.

"What's that?" The woman asked with feigned disinterest.

"It's a parental rights waiver. It says you will release any rights you have to Rusty's custody. It means he'll stay in his good home." Brenda said. _So long as we find him._

"And why in the hell would I sign that?"

"Because if you care about your son, at all, you will realize you're not suited to be his mother. Unless of course you'd rather fight us on that. I'm sure a judge would be interested to see that video there. Although if you get yourself a decent lawyer, you could even win. But then, I get the feelin' you wouldn't want to stay in one place long enough to wait for that kind of thing." Brenda said. She didn't add that Sharon Beck probably could not _afford_ a decent lawyer. She'd let the woman puzzle that out for herself.

There was a long pause in the room as Rusty's mother stared at the waiver. Without looking up, she finally spoke.

"Do you have a pen?"

* * *

Every corner of Sharon's apartment was dark. She couldn't bring herself to turn any lights on, to expose the emptiness of the space to her weary eyes.

She hadn't slept at all. It had only been a day and a half, but every hour felt like a sliver being pulled out of her skin. She wrapped her sweater around her more tightly, reaching for her hefty glass of white rum. Ordinarily, she'd cut it with a bit of Coke or pineapple juice, but she didn't care tonight. Tonight she'd relish every mouthful of cold, hard alcohol.

She wished the drive with Brenda the previous day, that first step in a too-long search, would have helped. But instead it had brought up every awful thought she could muster.

After everything she'd been through with Rusty, she hated to think that all it took was one night, one awful birthday party, to push him right back into the darkness from which he'd come. His old street corner had been the worst of it. Even though he hadn't been there when they'd stopped, all she could do since was imagine him standing in the streetlight in the same tank top and jeans they'd found him in after the night he'd encountered Stroh.

She'd been smoking too. Hadn't done it in years, but for some reason, she'd reached into her bottom desk drawer as soon as Brenda had dropped her off. She'd pulled out the emergency pack of cigarettes hiding there. She hadn't been able to inhale the smoke quickly enough.

She couldn't bring herself to go into work even though she knew that's where she should have been. She didn't want to be smothered or tended to, and as much as she wanted Rusty home, she didn't want to miss his call should he make one. She was keeping both the home phone and her cell close by.

Her cell buzzed. She lunged for it. Just a text. From Andrea.

_We haven't found anything yet. I wanted to see how you are. Do you want me to come over?_

Why not? Why not add another vice to her recent stretch of them. It would be so easy to give in and fall into someone else, let pleasure absorb some pain.

_No. I need to be alone right now. _It was all Sharon could muster.

When she heard a knock at her door, Sharon decided Andrea had probably ignored her request. She didn't move to get up. If she ignored it, hopefully the visitor would get the idea and leave.

The knock came a second time, more loud and incessant.

Sharon closed her eyes and took another sip of rum.

After a few moments of silence, Sharon sighed, thankful her prayers had been answered.

Then a bright Southern voice shrieked from behind the door.

"Sharon Raydor, if you don't open this door, I'll break it down!"

Sharon dragged her feet to the door, freed the lock, and returned to her couch.

Brenda pushed the door open timidly.

"You couldn't break down that door even if you wanted to." Sharon said blandly, lighting another cigarette.

"You underestimate how much I wanted to, Cap'n," Brenda said. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," Sharon replied.

Brenda came over to the couch pulled the cigarette from Sharon's fingers and crushed it in the ashtray.

Sharon glared at the blonde over her glasses. Brenda could see the red lines in her eyes, the dark circles beneath them.

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept?" Brenda said, standing over her charge. She'd never seen Sharon so withdrawn, so unwilling to move. It terrified her.

"Look, Brenda, I appreciate the visit, but I don't need to be nagged or bothered or coddled so if that's why you're here then just leave." Sharon said. She reached for her glass.

Brenda reached for it at the same time and they both struggled to grip it, rum sloshing out over the side and onto Sharon's shirt.

"Fuck. Great. Thank you so much," Sharon said, letting Brenda take the glass as she stood up and pulled at her wet top. She stumbled slightly as she removed her sweater and pulled the soaked shirt from her skin. She stood in her bra, balling up the garments and turning to leave the room.

"I'm sorry," Brenda put down the glass and reached for Sharon's arm, stunting her retreat. "But I am not goin' to let you sit here alone and implode."

An unguided anger rose up in Sharon and she seized Brenda's arms and forced her down on the couch. She pinned the blonde to the cushions with her body and pressed their mouths together. Brenda let out a muffled cry, struggling against Sharon's limbs. The kiss was sloppy. Brenda partook only momentarily until she could tear her arms from the woman's grasp and push against her shoulders, separating their mouths.

"Sharon, stop!" Brenda demanded. They were both panting in the dark room. Sharon wouldn't meet her eyes. But she also didn't move. Brenda reached up a hand to hold long auburn waves out of the Captain's face.

"Sharon," Brenda said softly. She pulled her into a delicate kiss, at first feeling no response from her partner's mouth. Then Sharon gave in a little, matching the gentler move.

Brenda pulled her lips away again, assessing the lines in the woman's face. She thought there were a few new ones there. Sharon's eyes were screwed shut.

"I'm so tired," Sharon said.

Brenda took the glasses from Sharon's face and placed them on the coffee table. She pulled the woman down on top of her, putting Sharon's head to her chest.

"Then sleep for a while. We can get up later and get you properly taken care of. But just sleep, okay?"

"Okay." Sharon said.

Brenda felt the woman's breathing even out and eventually slow and soothe against her body. Brenda stroked the woman's hair, willing her to drift. The weight of Sharon's body and the sound of her quiet breaths soon led Brenda into sleep as well.

Sharon awoke in Brenda's arms with a pounding headache. She didn't want to move but she needed water. Lots of it. Reluctantly, she sat up slowly, trying not to disturb the blonde, but Brenda stirred anyway. The brown eyes flickered open; Brenda sighed, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Hey," Brenda said softly.

"Hey."

"How are you feelin'?" Brenda asked.

"Like shit. I think I'm going to throw up."

"Then go do it. I'll get you some water and we'll see if we can rejuvenate you a little," Brenda said. Sharon walked then ran to the bathroom, spilling the contents of her stomach into the toilet. There wasn't much. Brenda had guessed correctly that she'd barely eaten anything. She sank next to the bowl for a minute, collecting her strength enough before getting up. She brushed her teeth, ridding her mouth of its unpleasant taste.

She realized she was a bit bare at she looked down at her bra. She retrieved a warm sweater from her room and pulled it on.

She came back to the kitchen where Brenda had two glasses of water out and some Tylenol; the little role reversal made Sharon smile. Thankfully, the blonde had not turned on the light. The little sunlight beginning to crack through the windows was quite enough for now. Sharon took a glass greedily and emptied it in one go.

"Drink the other one too." Brenda said. Sharon followed her order, including the pills this time.

"I think I should lie down." Sharon said. She dropped back onto the couch, stretching out on her back, soothing her stomach with her hand.

"Do you want me to put the TV on?" Brenda asked.

"No. I think that might be too much for my head to handle."

"Would you like anything else then? I was going to order some food, but I'm guessing you're probably not ready yet."

"It would probably just make me more nauseous. But I should eat something soon. If only to have something substantial to throw up." Sharon said.

"I could…" Brenda considered her options. She looked to the bookcase against the wall. "I could read you something? Might be a little more soothin' if you can stand my voice."

Sharon smirked. It was constantly surprising how sweet the Chief could be. She would never have thought she had it in her. She imagined a lot of it had come from being raised by Willie Rae.

"Sure. Why don't you grab that red book up there." Sharon pointed to the top shelf. "There's a bookmark in it."

Brenda reached for the indicated book and retrieved her reading glasses from her purse. She returned to the space on the couch that Sharon had left vacant. Brenda sat and pulled the woman's feet onto her lap. Sharon pulled a blanket from the floor and covered herself, Brenda assisting by covering up the woman's freezing toes.

"Poetry?" Brenda said, her voice teasingly aghast. "Are you testin' me or what?"

Sharon snorted.

"Just open it up and read."

"Yes ma'am. Right away ma'am." Brenda saluted her and then opened the book to where it was marked. She pointed to the page and checked with Sharon to validate, "This one?"

Sharon nodded.

Brenda began her recitation, a little awkward at first, but building in confidence and comprehension as she went.

"I love the handful of the earth you are.  
Because of its meadows, vast as a planet,  
I have no other star. You are my replica  
of the multiplying universe.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know  
from extinguished constellations;  
your skin throbs like the streak  
of a meteor through rain.

Your hips were that much of the moon for me;  
your deep mouth and its delights, that much sun;  
your heart, fiery with its long red rays,

was that much ardent light, like honey in the shade.  
So I pass across your burning form, kissing  
you - compact and planetary, my dove, my globe."

The words hit Brenda firmly, drawing out an ache she didn't expect. It was a pleasant one. The kind that comes in soothing a burn or massaging a sore muscle. She smiled as her eyes wandered over the words again, taking in every syllable anew, taken aback that Sharon could plan something this romantic in her current state.

"For someone so skeptical of poetry, you did rather well, Chief." Sharon said. There was a knowing glint in her green eyes.

"For someone so hungover, you have a remarkable way of seducin' me when I least expect it." Brenda ran her hand along Sharon's legs beneath the blanket.

Sharon shrugged nonchalantly.

"I get by with a little help from my friend Pablo Neruda. I only wish I had the capacity to follow through right now." Sharon chuckled.

Brenda bit her lip.

"I hate to ask right now…" Brenda began.

"If you hated it that much, you wouldn't be asking," Sharon teased.

"Are you back with Andrea? I saw you two leave for your room at the party, I just wondered."

Sharon raised her eyebrows.

"My, my. Are we jealous?" Sharon asked with a smirk. Brenda's face warmed. "I was doing what we talked about – trying to end it as gently as possible. It seemed to go all right, though I need to have a full conversation with her soon."

Brenda dropped her gaze, a little guilty that she had suspected the brunette so quickly.

"It's all right to be jealous. It's kind of endearing." Sharon said as she shifted, moving her feet from Brenda's lap and sitting up to scoot closer. "Anyway, there's no need to worry. You are my only star, Brenda Leigh." She smirked.

Brenda dropped the book into her lap and moved in to kiss Sharon.

"You know I just threw up, right? Not ten minutes ago?"

"I honestly don't care right now," Brenda said, then brought the woman's lips to her own, planting an eager kiss.

When they parted, Sharon dragged a hand down Brenda's neck and chest.

"I'm glad you're here." Sharon said.

"Me too."

Shortly after, Brenda ordered Chinese food. They shared the couch and ate silently when it arrived. Then Brenda remembered another reason she'd come over.

"I know I didn't bring you any updates about Rusty yet, but I do have a little good news." Brenda said.

Sharon raised an eyebrow as she chewed a piece of chicken.

"We talked to Sharon Beck and convinced her that the right thing to do was sign over her parental rights and make Rusty a free boy."

Sharon froze. She blinked. She put down her plate.

"You… She signed a waiver?"

Brenda nodded, beaming.

Sharon felt like there was no air in the room. Even in Rusty's absence, she suddenly felt stronger; she felt renewed. She hadn't been this pleased since Daniel Dunn forfeited the same rights. And Brenda had done it for her, for them. She lunged at the Chief and hugged her, nearly knocking the plate out of Brenda's hand. Brenda set it down before her food could spill all over the floor and then held Sharon tightly in her arms, stroking her back.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Sharon said close to her ear.

Brenda's phone rang from her purse. She pulled back from Sharon's arms and went to answer it.

"Johnson."

"Hey, Chief." Julio replied. "We have a little update – we finally got a hold of Derek's parents. They were under the assumption that he was staying with Sharon and Rusty, but they haven't heard from him either and he's not answering his phone. He has his car though, so we're guessing that wherever Rusty is, he's with him."

"And do they have any idea where he might be?" Brenda asked quietly, moving to the kitchen where Sharon couldn't hear her. She didn't want to give the woman any news until it was good news.

"They said they have a cottage a couple hours from here. Sykes is on her way there now." Julio said.

"Perfect. Let me know as soon as you hear back." Brenda said. When she hung up and turned around, Sharon was standing behind her. Brenda jumped.

"How do you _do _that?!" Brenda gasped.

"Did they find anything?" Sharon asked. Her face was pale.

"Our best bet right now is that he's with Derek. Two teenaged boys who have a car and aren't answering their phones. Amy's checking a cottage Derek's parents own. Hopefully they're there." Brenda said.

Sharon sighed. There was a little relief in knowing her foster son was with a friend and not on the street somewhere. She let herself have a little hope that soon he'd be back safely where he belonged.

After Sharon showered and changed, the two women spent the whole day together in the apartment, sharing food and talk, watching a movie when Sharon felt a little better. She did not puke again – miracle of miracles – and her headache dissipated in the span of a few hours.

They were both unnerved when Amy reported back that the cottage was vacant. _Where the hell could they be? _

It was half-past 5 when they heard a key unlocking the front door. Sharon leapt off the couch.

When Rusty came through the door, her heart stopped. She ran at him and bear-hugged him so tightly he couldn't move.

"Ouch! Sharon! I think you're cracking my ribs!" Rusty wheezed. Sharon didn't let up.

"Don't EVER do that again! Why didn't you answer your phone, why didn't you call?! I didn't know where you were! You can't DO that to me!" Sharon said. She was shaking with sobs.

"I know. I'm sorry, I just kind of lost it. I told Derek to take me somewhere my mom couldn't find me so we went and stayed at a hotel for a night. I didn't want her coming back here and trying to take me away again. My phone died." He offered.

Sharon pulled back but maintained a grip on his shoulders.

"Doesn't Derek have a phone? Couldn't you have at least let me know you were okay?"

"He does – I just had this stupid idea that maybe if she came back and thought you didn't know where I was either, she would just leave the city. I don't know. I know it was stupid. I'm sorry…" He looked down, unable to meet her eyes. She took his chin in her hand and tilted his head up to face her.

"You were scared. I get it. But you can't do that ever again, okay?" She said.

He nodded. Sharon hugged him again, afraid to let him go.

"She won't be coming back for you, Rusty. Not anymore." Brenda said. She'd risen from the couch and stood a few paces behind them. Rusty seemed startled by her presence. He pulled himself from Sharon's arms and looked between the two women with a subtle smirk.

Sharon narrowed her eyes.

"Not. A. Word. You're still in trouble. And you're grounded."

Sharon forced him to eat some leftover takeout and then sent him to his room to charge his phone. Brenda took to her own phone and called off the search, reassuring everyone that Rusty was safe and sound.

Sharon returned to the family room where Brenda was waiting.

"The search is off. Derek made it home." Brenda said. She looked around the room, feeling displaced. "I guess I should go," she made a move to grab her purse. Sharon reached for her arm.

"Stay. I mean, if you want to."

"Yes, please." Brenda grinned.

* * *

"Next time you have any hare-brained ideas, you mind checkin' 'em with me first?" Brenda teased Rusty later that night. The three of them had sat down to watch TV. It didn't really matter what was on, they weren't paying much attention, each of them thankful to just be in one another's company.

"Yeah, yeah. Does this mean I'm going to have two nagging moms now?" Rusty deadpanned. Then he froze, realizing what he'd just insinuated. Thankfully, Brenda laughed.

"Just consider me a concerned friend. I'll leave the heavy-duty parentin' to Sharon."

Rusty smiled. He thought he could get used to this. The two women were clearly enamoured and it made him happy to see Sharon get exactly what she wanted.

"Well if you two don't mind, I'm going to go to bed. I'm exhausted." Rusty said, excusing himself from the room. He didn't want to be around for what was next since he was pretty sure it was a higher gear than the hesitant makeout session he and Derek had enjoyed at the hotel.

Brenda pulled at her shirt and sniffed it.

"I should probably go downstairs. I need some fresh clothes." She said.

"I'll walk you to your door." Sharon said.

"Only to my door?" Brenda asked, feigning innocence.

Sharon smirked.

"Maybe a little farther. Just give me a sec." Sharon rose and went to Rusty's room, knocking for permission to proceed. He called out to come in and she entered.

"I'm going to Brenda's briefly."

Rusty grinned.

"Don't get any ideas. Don't go anywhere. And don't do anything stupid." Sharon teased. "I'm trusting you a lot more than you deserve right now. I shouldn't be too long."

"I'm not going anywhere." Rusty assured her. "And don't worry about getting back too quickly. I'll be asleep anyway."

Sharon shook her head at him.

"Goodnight, Rusty."

"Night, Sharon."

* * *

Sharon helped herself to a glass of water while Brenda changed. She nearly spat it out when the blonde returned to the kitchen, dressed in nothing but that oh-so-familiar set of bra and underwear.

"You're awful." Sharon said.

"Ain't I just?" Brenda shrugged. Brenda turned and ran to the bedroom, Sharon at her heels.

Brenda was laying back on the bed and Sharon climbed on top of her, eagerly touching every inch of skin that was bare. She kissed her soundly, eagerly winding their tongues together.

Brenda halted their progress.

"Hold on. Before we go any further, I want to talk." Brenda said.

Sharon lifted herself up.

"You expect me to talk when you're wearing _that_?" She replied.

Brenda laughed.

"Just for a little. Surely you can wait a _touch _longer after all this time?" Brenda teased. Sharon moved and sat next to the woman, both of them side-by-side, finally on even ground.

"I just want to hear exactly what you want from me. What you want for us." Brenda started.

Sharon nodded, considered her response.

"I want you. I have for a long time. I want to date and see how it goes. And I want to be open about it. I don't want to keep it a secret." Sharon said. "What do _you _want?" Sharon was sure her feelings weren't one-sided. It was the openness she was worried about.

Brenda took a long pause, stroking Sharon's hand in hers.

If anyone had suggested a few months ago that she could be close friends with Sharon Raydor, never mind _date _her, she'd have laughed them out of the room. But she couldn't ignore the way she warmed at the barest idea of the woman and perked up and the sound of her voice, and burned whenever they touched.

She also couldn't ignore her life and the way it could or couldn't fit into Sharon's. Could she really date a woman? She wasn't sure she had the same fortitude to pull it off. Maybe if she were younger, more willing to fly in the face of what was expected of her, it would be easier. It was easy to bend the rules at work when she could justify the means by the end.

So couldn't she justify the means of dating a woman, of shifting her life and the assumptions of others, if the end it brought was being happy? Being loved?

Brenda thought about Rusty, the way that Sharon had reformed him, but hadn't changed him. That was the thing about Sharon. The ways she changed you, they were for the better. She still gave you room to breathe and to be yourself. She didn't impose things, – well, outside of work anyway – she just adjusted them, helped them along.

She didn't make Brenda feel lesser anymore, she just helped her, supported her, and yes, let her know when she was making an ass of herself.

She balanced her. And Brenda thought she did a little balancing of the brunette as well. She wanted to be that woman she felt she was at work – confident, balanced, self-assured. She'd just never felt that fully in her past relationships.

"Don't leave a girl in agony." Sharon tested when Brenda was taking too long.

Brenda chuckled.

"I want you too, Shar. I want all of you. I would love to date and be a part of your life and be there for you." Brenda paused. "And I want to be open about it too. I like bein' with you and the way you make me feel and I know it's going to be a big adjustment, but I'm willin' to try. If you'll let me."

Sharon exhaled.

"Of course I will," she murmured and leaned in for a long kiss. "Are we done talking for now?"

Brenda hummed against her lips.

"Unless you want to let this lingerie to go to waste," Brenda teased.

Sharon pushed the woman back on the bed, encouraging her to move up and put her head against the pillows.

The Captain began a slow assault, her mouth moving from Brenda's neck, down the muscles of her neck, her collarbone, down her chest. She pulled back the cups of Brenda's bra and laved her nipples with her tongue. Brenda sighed, winding her fingers into Sharon's hair to hold it back. She arched her back, pushing her breast further into Sharon's mouth. Sharon lightly bit it, causing the Chief to flinch a little in appreciation.

Sharon loved the way Brenda's body moved beneath her, bucking up against her stomach and responding to her every touch. Sharon could feel the heat coming from her even through her sweater and she figured she better not waste any time.

Before she could move lower, Brenda's fingers grabbed at the sweater, helping it off Sharon's head and arms and pulling her in for another kiss when she was free. Sharon let her hand wander down between Brenda's legs, lightly kneading her fingers against the underwear. It was soaked through.

"Lovely," Sharon breathed against Brenda's mouth. She pressed lightly against Brenda's shoulders, willing her to lie back down as Sharon shifted and positioned her face between her legs.

Brenda held back Sharon's hair with both hands. Sharon kissed the inside of Brenda's thigh, making a languid approach to the source of all that heat.

She planted a kiss on the patch of wet underwear and Brenda keened.

Sharon pulled at the underwear, sliding it down Brenda's legs and tossing it. She returned her mouth to the bare, slick centre.

She dragged her tongue along the folds, first along the outside and then right up the middle, flicking her clit once with her tongue. Brenda's hips bucked.

Then Sharon went to work, slowly, relishing every second of this new taste, the sweetness of the woman's sugary diet enveloping her palette. Brenda gripped her hair tighter.

Sharon let her tongue dip inside the woman, swirling her tongue, then moving back up to tenderly lave her clit. She worked her tongue a little faster, then slipped a finger inside her, tentatively.

Brenda moaned. Sharon worked the single digit in exploration, winding it up inside her, testing every bump and curve. She added another finger when she was satisfied, curling them up as she began to thrust. She amped up slowly, flicking her tongue and sucking her clit in tandem with her thrusts, taking Brenda's every sound and move of hips as guidance. Brenda encouraged the woman with her grip on her head, pressing her further into her heat every now and then.

Sharon could feel how hard Brenda's clit was now, her breathing more scattered. Sharon took a deep breath herself and poured all of her energy into a final run. She lapped hungrily and moved her arm harder, faster, scaling every incline of Brenda's arousal. She was close. Sharon took as much of Brenda's folds into her mouth as she could, giving a few last thrusts and curls with her fingers and she heard Brenda whimper as she came. The woman's heat overflowed and Brenda's entire body quaked around Sharon's fingers.

Sharon lapped up as much as she could and licked her lips, pulling herself slowly from Brenda's puffy centre.

Brenda released the brown hair in her hands and let her arms fall to the bed, trying to stabilize her breathing.

"Wow." Brenda said.

"I concur," Sharon husked as she moved up the woman again and let her taste herself in a deep kiss.

When Brenda's breath was caught, which was difficult to do with Sharon possessing her mouth, she pushed the woman back and forced her down, eagerly grabbing at her pants and removing them as quickly as possible. She peeled the underwear off too, grinning as she exposed the neat brown curls above the freshly shaved folds.

"Did someone suspect she was getting' lucky tonight?" Brenda cooed.

"Perhaps." Sharon said.

Brenda lowered her body to Sharon's, loving the feeling of the soft skin against her own, the way their breasts pressed together as she moved in to kiss her. Brenda was delighted to feel Sharon wet and warm against her thigh.

She stroked her hands down Sharon's side, coming to rest at Sharon's legs. She sat up on her knees and pushed Sharon's thighs up, as far as they would go. Brenda was unsure of herself, venturing far into untested waters, but she was too shy to ask for help, knowing Sharon would give it anyway so long as Brenda did what she felt she wanted.

Sharon watched from her position, lying on her back, holding her legs in the place Brenda had left them – high, wide, and exposed – while she waited on Brenda's next move. She was eager to see how Brenda would go, aware of the woman's relative inexperience in this situation.

Brenda moved forward, bringing her centre to touch Sharon's, heat meeting heat. She slowly began to rock into the woman, the contact not nearly enough.

"Here," Sharon said after a few moments. She straightened one of her legs and pulled Brenda's over it, bringing their bodies closer together where they met. _Much better. _Brenda moaned in approval, taking up her rocking again, holding Sharon's folded leg for support. Sharon watched as Brenda rolled her body, her breasts moving in rhythm. Sharon moved a hand to her own breast, tweaking the nipple. Her other hand trailed down to pull herself open more, exposing her clit. Brenda watched and did the same, sighing when she felt the result.

Brenda leaned over more, moving her hips more confidently, inching forward in her pleasure. Sharon grasped Brenda's ass in encouragement, thrusting her own hips up in tandem with Brenda's. They worked fluidly, unrelenting, pressing into each other more and more.

Finally Brenda reached her peak and fell straight over, her body quaking as she melted into Sharon. Sharon reached her hand down to her clit and brought herself to the same state, kneading and rubbing until she came. She slipped her hand out from between them and rested it on Brenda's damp back.

Brenda sighed contentedly.

"That was even better than I imagined." Brenda said softly.

"Same here. I'd like to go again, but I don't know if I have the energy for it." Sharon said.

Brenda pressed her lips to Sharon's.

"Maybe in a bit. For now, I'm happy right where I am." Brenda said.


End file.
